My End Is Your Beginning
by BRuh4
Summary: "Boys, I am just going to be blunt. No point beating around the bush." Ned said. "I fear that I may be leaving you all, soon." "Where are you going?" Robb asked, confused. "I am not going anywhere. What I mean is... I think I am going to die soon." Jon x Dany Robb x Margaery (R&R) rating will change
1. My End Is Your Beginning

**This is a very different story. It's a modern AU, set in King's Landing, but a modernized version of it. With roads, and shit. Plenty of guns, drugs, cars, blood, all kinds of crazy shit. I let my creativity off its leash for this.  
**

 **So, it's modern, imagine they have a lot of the same things we got.**

 **This is very AU, and I mean really AU. People who are dead in the show and books, are alive, like Robb. Certain characters are kinda different, like their personalities. I think that covers all the bases, if you have other questions, like what is The King of Block? That will be explained.**

 **Couple things to understand before you start reading. Below is the prologue, where I set up this universe. To be better understand the setting, imagine the beginning of the prologue that you read there took place around what would've been the early 1920s. When the story starts, I'd say to imagine it's just like 2018. Also, when the story starts, imagine the ages of everyone would be similar to season five-ish. So, in season seven, Jon's probably around 21 or 22. Here, imagine him around 19-ish. You can gauge everyone else from that.  
**

 **Hope you enjoy. I've spent a lot of time on this.**

* * *

 _Prologue:_

It all started a very long time ago. A young Aegon Targaryen wanted so much more than he already had. His ancestors had been content to just sit lay around on their island. Dragonstone, an island of their own making, the Targaryens. But not Aegon. He looked west, where he would find what he was looking for. Everything, all the lands, all Seven Kingdoms, he wanted them. He would take them. His family was the only in all of Westeros to have crafted something, no one else had. A plane. Specifically, an airplane that could lay waste to anything that opposed them. Planes that could drop heavy explosives on the lands below, and fire machine guns from the front.

Aegon, and his two sisters, Rhaenys and Visenya, would use these planes to bring the country to heel. Soon, Aegon was the first Targaryen King ever.

Seventy-five years later, King Aerys Targaryen ruled over Westeros. In the beginning, he was a fine ruler. But as he grew older, he also grew more insane. He enjoyed watching people burn; stakes were built around the city, every day, a person was chosen at random to be burned at the stake, by way of a flamethrower.

Among Aerys many mistakes as King, he decided that the then nine families of the city shouldn't be allowed to conduct their various businesses. Stark, Lannister, Mormont, Greyjoy, Bolton, Tyrell, Martell, Frey, and Baratheon families were no longer allowed to own businesses or undergo any exchanges of money. Essentially, he damned them to bankruptcy.

A meeting was held in The Block, The Block is a section of the King's Landing, located directly in the middle of the city. There, the ten families would meet every so often to discuss business, and to make sure they don't kill each other. The Block was founded by Cregan Stark when all the families business began to intersect, a civil war broke out between the families. The city quickly became a mess, the streets were painted with blood, sons and daughters were murdered, plenty of property was destroyed. Cregan decided enough was enough, he called for a truce. Then, he was able to convince the leaders of all then nine families to come together, and not fight. The families came up with the idea to create The Block, and they decided that Cregan should lead them. Because brought them together.

Cregan was named King Of The Block. After that, the Accords of the Block were created. Rules, and guidelines for how the families would interact from then on. All the rules were written down in a large book, a book that is now kept inside The Block and is considered sacred.

Important rules include but are not limited to:

 _When the current King dies, if a successor has been named, that person takes over, if not, an election will be held. If three family leaders veto the named successor, an election will be held. Only two people are allowed to run for King. If there are more than two candidates that wish to be King, a separate election must be held to decide the two. The election of the King must take place two weeks after the passing of the last King. This is allowed so the candidates can speak with the other leaders and such, they made attempt to secure a vote. This time is also for the family of the deceased King, a time for mourning. If the King was murdered, and any of the family leaders are found out to have any part in the killing, they cannot be allowed to be King._

 _The killing of women and children is not allowed. Offenders will be punished severely. Drugs and weapons are not to be sold to children._

 _If a leader wants another leader killed, a separate meeting must be held. First, excommunication from the Block is brought up, if all leaders agree, the offending leader will be pushed out, and another person from that family take his/her place. But If all other leaders agree on the killing, the killing may take place. The killing must be painless, a quick death is important. Poison or a bullet to the head is the most prominent option._

 _Any man that is directly involved or employed by a family; Must be marked via a tattoo on the right side of the neck area of that family's sigil. Marks cannot be removed in any way. This does not apply to employees of a business owned by a family. Only men that are directly related or employed by the family itself. Additionally, any man employed by a family must wear a suit, at all times during specific employment hours. Time off or spent away is not important for this rule. A woman employed may wear whatever is required of them. Women are also not required to get marked.  
_

 _Any person that is to become directly employed or related by a family must swear an oath given by that family. This oath states that this person, should they ever leave the service of this family or under any other circumstances, will never make anything they did or saw known to any other person not related to the family. Under any circumstances, does the families business need to be known by the authorities, friends, relatives. If any information is leaked to anyone, the person responsible for the leak may be apprehended by the family and dealt with as the family sees fit.  
_

 _Any marriage between two members of two different families ends any and all hostilities between the two families. Dating also falls under this rule._

Violating these or any other of the Accords is cause for punishment.

But the perks of being King is that you are essentially invincible. Hypothetically, no can touch you, they can try. The King can add to the Accords, but the new rule must be voted on. Any disputes between families are put to rest by the King. He also delivers punishments whenever he deems necessary.

Each family controls certain businesses in the city, the Starks control all gambling that goes on in the city. They own two casinos in the city. Also, they own five nightclubs in the city.

The Lannisters control all jewelry sales in the city, their home, Casterly Rock, sits on a gold mine. Gold and other assorted jewels are brought into the city every other day. Every whorehouse, brothel, or strip club in the city is owned by them as well.

The Boltons control all sales of meat and various food sales. They own several restaurants and slaughterhouses in the city. They also run six underground fight clubs in the city.

The Greyjoys controls all imports into the city, the shipyard is their domain.

The Martells control all manufacture and sales of every drug sold in and outside the city, from painkillers to heroin.

The Mormonts control all sales of clothing in the city, they own all clothing stores.

The Baratheons control all sales of any form of alcohol in the city, they own every bar or tavern, along with several breweries in the city.

The Frey's are considered the vilest out of all the families, if someone needs killing, they're the people you should be talking to. They also control all sales of any form of weaponry, from guns to knives to poison.

The Tyrells are the farmers, they control all sales anything from grain to carrots in the city. They own three farms outside the city and five markets in the city. They work in with the Mormonts often.

Each family can buy from each other, come together on business deals, and sometimes co-own certain businesses. Families can buy out other families businesses, for example, the Starks could buy or build a shooting range they'd just have to pay the Frey's first. But it is important that families stay in their lane, spilling over into other families business is how the disputes got started.

Civilians can open up businesses that a family has a monopoly on, but they will undoubtedly be set upon by the cohorts of the offended family. Either to be bought out, demand monthly payments for 'protection,' or just uprooted.

The families prospered for a countless amount of years until King Aerys made his decree.

Aerys believed there was no other King but himself, he was insulted and angered that anyone would call themselves King. Because of this, and believing the families were all criminals, he called for the then King of the Block, Rickard Stark's head, along with 'The Block,' to be completely destroyed.

Before Aerys went mad, he was content with the then nine families dealings in the city, he was basically blind to it. But suddenly, he became aware and furious.

To add to the strife, around the same time of Aerys' decree, Rhaegar Targaryen supposedly abducted Lyanna Stark, Rickard's daughter. No one knew where they went. Many assumed they fled to Essos. This caused an uproar among the Baratheons, their current leader, Robert Baratheon, had asked for her hand in marriage. She had agreed. It was also a problem because Rhaegar was married to Elia Martell, and they had two children.

During the meeting that took place hours after Aerys' decree, the families argued heavily about what they should do. Some said they should disband for the safety of their families, others wanted to fight back, Rickard was neither of them.

Torn, he foolishly went to the Red Keep, where King Aerys waited for him. Rickard hoped he could convince the King to let the families continue their business. He'd try to relay to him that the families wouldn't flourish without their various businesses. Unfortunately, that was not possible, Aerys held Rickard captive. He demanded that Rickard's son, Brandon Stark, come answer for his father's crimes. Brandon went to the Red Keep, hoping to return home with his father. But instead, he watched as his father was burned alive with a flamethrower, and he was strangled by a rope.

Rickard had named Brandon his successor, but they were both dead. Therefore, the Accords stated that there should be an election.

Ned Stark, Rickard's other son, put himself in the running for King, along with Tywin Lannister.

Ned won the election. His first act as King was to unseat Aerys. The Block's full force attacked the Red Keep, anyone that didn't surrender was shot down. The Red Keep was nearly destroyed. Ned barged into the throne room, guns blazing, expecting to shoot down the King that'd taken his father and brother from him. He was robbed of that delight, instead, he found Jaime Lannister standing over Aerys, with his gun in his hand, clip empty.

Jaime had been apart of the Kingsguard, an elite group of men that protected the King. But he murdered the man he swore to protect. Many would look down upon him for the rest of his life. He went to work with his father after that.

Unknown to Ned, Robert conspired with Tywin to murder Elia Martell and her two children. They were successful, and they kept it a secret by making it look like Elia killed herself, and her son. Luckily, they didn't get pregnant Rhaella Targaryen and her son Viserys. Aerys hid them inside the keep, they came out after all the fighting had ended. Many assumed that Ned would have them killed as well, Robert even wanted him to, urged him. But he couldn't kill a pregnant woman, and child. They were innocent. Knowing Robert, what he might do to them, he put them under his protection. He bought them a house in the city. When Viserys became of age, he could join the other nine families. The Targaryen's would come to own a large number of airplanes, their own airline, and the only airport in the city.

After that, the people decided they no longer wanted a King. Instead of a ruling monarch, the people decided they wanted something different, thus, The Great Council was created. Six men were chosen to essentially rule over all Seven Kingdoms. They'd make laws and decrees, preside over every trail of any kind, hold court when necessary, and hopefully be better than the last King.

When the process of choosing of these six men began, Ned Stark used all of his power to put four men up for the council. So that those four men would help him, should he ever need it. Those four men were elected. Namely, his brother, Benjen Stark, and Aemon Targaryen. The two men were ones that Ned bribed.

The Great Council allowed the families to conduct their business in the city, knowing they couldn't stop them even if they wanted to.

After everything was settled, Ned traveled by himself to Essos to search for his sister Lyanna. He scoured the desert lands for her. It took months, but eventually, he heard rumors she was in a tower in the middle of the desert. He located the tower and got out there as soon as he could. When he arrived there, he got out of the truck he rode out there to see three armed men, and a tall unarmed silver-haired man standing in front of them. They stood in front of the winding steps into the tower.

Possibly expecting this to happen, Ned brought a gun.

When the silver-haired man saw him, he held his hands up and yelled, "Lower your weapon! We mean no harm."

Ned yelled back from behind the cover of the truck, "Then why do your men have guns?"

The silver-haired man turned back to his men behind him, "Drop your guns," he commanded. The men did as they were asked, the man turned back to Ned's direction, "See? No harm. I'd hope you would do the same, drop your weapon."

"And why the hell would I do that?" Ned asked, with a half-laugh. "I know who you are, Rhaegar Targaryen. Your father is dead, your family's been unseated. I've come for my sister. You took her away! I am perfectly content to kill you right now. I expected to have to kill you."

"And that would be within your rights, I suppose. But why would you kill your brother?"

Ned scoffed loudly, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"All will be explained, Ned Stark… If it helps you to trust me, your sister came with me willingly. Please, come inside. Something is happening that I need you to see."

"How do I know this isn't a trick?"

"You don't. But if you want your sister, she's inside."

"Fuck," Ned groaned. Then he stood up, and tossed his gun aside, he then stepped out in front of the truck. Then he started walking towards Rhaegar.

"You've nothing to fear," Rhaegar smiled, spreading his arms out like he was welcoming Ned into a hug.

Ned stopped in front of him, frowning, "What've you done with my sister?"

He smirked, then turned to the side, and motioned to stairs, "Why don't you come and see?"

Entering the tower through a door on the side of the tower, they came into a small circular room. Which was decorated neatly, there was a large tv on the opposite wall. A large coffee table in front of it, and a curved couch. Ned followed Rhaegar slowly, on the left wall was a large wooden double door.

"Lyanna?" Rhaegar pushed the door open confidently. They entered to see, Lyanna, laying in a bed pushed against the wall in front of them. A window on either side of the bed. She was covered in what looked to be her own blood, blood-soaked sheets covered her up to her waist. To the left of the bed, was a separate room.

"Lyanna?!" Rhaegar skidded to own knee next to the bed, he grabbed her hand.

Ned was aghast, "What happened to her?!" He yelled, going to the other side of the bed.

Lyanna shuddered, and opened her eyes, "What?" Her voice weak, then she closed her eyes again to slip back into slumber. She seemed to begin to fade in and out of consciousness.

Rhaegar put his other hand on her cheek, "Lyanna, are you alright? What happened? Where's the baby?"

"Baby?" Ned asked, confused.

Then the obvious cry of an infant rang out, the sound came from the adjoining room. Ned snapped his head around to see a handmaiden carrying a newborn baby in swaddling clothes. She handed the baby to Rhaegar, she looked rather distressed and emotional.

"It's a boy… And he's fully healthy... But she lost a lot of blood," the handmaiden said, stifling a sob. "I don't think she's gonna make it."

"Call a fucking doctor then!" Ned yelled. He shook Lyanna slightly, "Stay with us Lyanna!"

"We're out in the middle of nowhere, they wouldn't get here in time," Rhaegar said, biting his lip, "She's out of time." He looked down at his baby.

"Why didn't you take her to a hospital to deliver the baby?" Ned inquired, visibly angry.

"When I came down to meet you, she had just gone into labor. I didn't expect complications… But I don't know if you've noticed," Rhaegar scoffed, "We've been hiding out for months. We didn't plan on entering the spotlight right now, it's too dangerous."

"What are you scared of?"

"Robert Baratheon?" Rhaegar said it like it was common knowledge.

"He'd never harm her," Ned sighed.

"And why not?"

"He was in love with her!" He exclaimed, "They were engaged. That's why I am here, you fucker. You kidnapped my sister, you obviously raped her." He gritted his teeth, clearly holding himself back. "Besides, It's outlawed to kill women… Although he'd definitely kill you."

"I did not rape your sister. For fucks sakes, if I'd raped her I definitely wouldn't be here right now. I about so absolutely wouldn't have my personal guard standing watch outside." He groaned. "The point is I don't think Robert believes your _Accords_ apply to him." Now Rhaegar's voice was sounding like he was irritable.

"What do you mean?"

Rhaegar frowned, "You don't know? He had Elia murdered… and my children."

"She committed suicide," he grimaced, "Before that, she killed her son." Admittedly, it did seem a tad bit outlandish. But he didn't have any reason not to believe Robert.

"You believe that? You think Elia would throw herself from a balcony in shame? She's a Martell, they're too proud to kill themselves. When I heard of what happened, I immediately dismissed the thought. Nevertheless, Robert will do anything to kill every Targaryen left of this planet. The Accords won't stop him. He doesn't care."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before the two of you ran away," Ned scoffed.

"You don't understand," Rhaegar said, hanging his head.

"What exactly don't I understand? I think I understand perfectly, you convinced my sister into running away with you. Why? Because I think you just wanted to get away from your father, not get caught up in it, get embarrassed. You stole away my sister so you could have a fuck-buddy. That's what I think," Ned spat. "I should fucking kill you right now."

"Go ahead, kill me. Orphan your nephew."

"That child is not my nephew," he shook his head.

"I was miserable with Elia. I divorced her several months ago in secret… We just kept up appearances."

"I don't believe that horse shit," he snorted. "If you were so miserable, why'd even keep up appearances?"

"For my father. My mother. The public." Rhaegar inclined his chin towards Lyanna, "You see that on her left hand?"

Ned frowned at the sight, an undeniable wedding band on her ring finger. Not unlike the one he wore himself, he glanced at his own hand. "You're married?" He stated the obvious.

"We are."

Ned pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed under his breath, taking a deep breath.

"What happened to my mother? My brother?" Rhaegar asked.

"They're safe."

"I certainly hope so. You must keep them safe, no one else will."

"We should I? What do I owe them?"

Rhaegar shrugged, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. But I take you for the more honorable sort. Something tells me you won't let them die. You didn't murder them in cold blood when you saw them. So at least I know you're not like Robert."

He pointed at him, "You don't know a damn thing about me."

"I know enough, from what she's told me. You're the only option anyway."

"And what does that me?" Ned replied, raising his eyebrows.

"Well… When I became aware of you landed in Essos, I knew you'd be looking for us. We'd hoped that'd you find us."

"Why?"

"Because you have to take our son with you back to King's Landing. He'll never be safe with me. But he can live a real life with you. Robert is already looking for me, he'll never find me, not until I want him to, but it's no life for a child."

Ned gasped, "What? I can't take your child. My own son was born yesterday. What I am supposed to with him?"

"Take him as your own," Rhaegar said plainly.

"You want me to say I cheated on my wife? No way." Well before Ned was King, he had married Catelyn Tully. The marriage was successfully consummated within hours.

"You have to!"

"I-" He stopped because Lyanna began to stir.

"Ned?" Lyanna whispered.

Ned sat on the bed and took her hand, "I'm here, sister."

She smiled when she laid eyes on him. "Good… Listen to me, you have to take our son."

"I can't-"

"You can," Lyanna cut in, "And you must. Please. Do it for me. I'm dying, can feel it, I'm… slipping… Ned please, I want to die knowing my child is safe."

Ned shuddered, tears forming in his eyes. "Lyanna…"

"Ned, I don't know you. But this is your nephew, keep him safe," Rhaegar said, reaching out to him with the baby in his hands.

He seemed to be pondering the idea. Even though he knew what he had to do. He nodded, "Alright, I'll do it," taking the baby into his arms.

Rhaegar looked at Lyanna, "What's our child's name?" His voice was soft but full of emotion, sadness. He cupped her cheek with his hand.

Lyanna smiled, "You already know his name."

Rhaegar smirked, "His name is Aegon Targaryen." Then he looked at Ned, "I know the name means very little now, but it's important. Surely, he'll have to go by a different name, Robert cannot know his real name."

"Where will you go?" Ned asked.

"I will hide here, in Essos. I have nowhere else to go… I don't know that I will ever return."

"I can keep you safe, I am The King of the Block-"

Rhaegar smiled, "There's no need, you've done enough. I am content to stay here… Now, listen closely, when you tell people what happened here, tell them you found her. Dying, tell them I did it."

"A lie."

"Another necessary lie, and you'll have to make something else up about the child. I'm sure you can figure something out."

Ned sighed, "I'll think of something."

"Of course you will because you have to."

Lyanna perked up again, groaning slightly, clearly in pain. "I-I don't want to die," she said, her voice diminishing.

Rhaegar looked to the handmaiden, "Get her something for the pain!" He seethed. She hurried off into the other room. He hovered Lyanna, starting to cry, "Oh my dear… I love you, so much."

She slowly lifted her hand to brush his cheek, he held her hand there, "I know, I love you… I want you to know… I don't regret a thing." She tried to smile.

He returned the smile, but a pained one, tears still coming, "I'm so sorry… I don't want you to go…"

Ned started to sob hard, essentially watching his dear sister die. He could do nothing about it. He felt so lost like a deep fog was coming over him. But the sight of Rhaegar's emotion coming through, seeing the relationship they had. The two of them were the only thing he could see. He was clearly wrong about Rhaegar, he had actually loved her. Everyone was wrong about him. It was all too much. He had to look away, clutching young Aegon closer to his chest.

"Everybody dies, my sweet… It's just my time, it's alright. I've made my peace."

The handmaiden came back into the room, carrying some sort of remedy for the pain in a cup. She handed it Rhaegar, who tipped it down Lyanna throat. "This will help you," he said. After she drank it all he handed the cup back to the handmaiden. Then he returned his attention to Lyanna, sitting on the side of the bed. "I remember when I first laid eyes on you. It was like I was in a trance, nothing else mattered, it was just you and I. You were so beautiful. I knew in that moment, you were the one for me." He mustered the biggest smile he could.

She smiled, "I remember that day. It was wonderful," she closed her eyes, taking her herself back to that moment, a smile appeared on her face. Exhaling heavily, one of her very last breaths. She could feel herself go back there. The memory was so clear.

Both Rhaegar, Ned, and the handmaiden were sobbing so hard they were shaking. Not a dry eye in the whole room. Rhaegar's tears fell onto on the sheets of the bed, he laid both her hands on her chest. Then collapsed onto the floor covering his face with his hands and yelled loudly. Out of pure emotion, mostly anger, he was so mad he could do anything to save her. He started beating his fists against his chest like he was trying to punish himself. Muttering several curses under his breath, directed at himself, "Fuck you, fuck you, you motherfucker," slapping himself. Then he got to his knees, next to the bed, he grabbed her hand with both of his, "Lyanna?" She gave no response, "Lyanna! Please… Please don't leave me alone…"

She didn't open her eyes again.

* * *

 _Chapter One: My End Is Your Beginning_

Many years later, the Stark family was doing very well. Gambling was providing more than enough funds to the family. One casino was located in the upper levels of the city, near the Red Keep, naturally, this was near people with more money. So this one made more money. The casino was called, ' _The Wolf_.' The second one was closer to the city gates, it got a mixed bag of patrons. Which also made a very considerable amount of money, it's called, ' _Optimus.'_

Ned didn't want to get into drugs, he considered himself an honorable businessman. Drugs just seemed too risky. But Petyr Baelish insisted it would make the family even more wealth. Through weed, crack, heroin, pills, etc, Ned gave in and allowed it. He came to an agreement with the Martells. Basically, the Martells handle production, the Starks would take care of distribution and sales. He put Petyr in charge of all the dealings, but there would be no talk of it in his estate, and if Petyr fucked it up, he'd kill him. Fortunately for him, it ended up paying dividends, the drug money increased the Stark family income by twenty percent. After that, Ned claimed half of the drug business for the Starks. He felt dirty for doing it, but he knew it would help the family.

Ned made his kids promise not to touch the stuff, which of course they promised they would. But they lied. Sansa was the worst of them, she smoked anything she could get her hands on. She also dabbled in all other types of more serious drugs. Her reluctant boyfriend, Ramsay Bolton, was to thank for that. She only dated him for his connections to the drugs. Robb and Jon smoked weed, cigarettes, and cigars, but that was it. They lived fairly painless lives, all they did was go to clubs and party, lay around, drink, or fight each other. But they spent almost all of their time together, they always had. They were extremely close. Bran was paralyzed from the waist down because that fateful day he climbed into his father's truck and drove away. The truck ended up wrapped around a tree, Bran was luckily he wasn't killed. But ever since that day, he's been in a wheelchair. Paralyzed from the waist down, his body also sports a various number of scars. All he does now is hide in his room, he rarely leaves, food is brought to him, and he was a bathroom attached to his room. His daily activities consist of messing around on his laptop, watch videos on the internet, play video games, or jerk off. Not that he could feel anything that low anyway. Little Rickon, the baby of the family, adored by everyone, the hyper little kid runs around the house most days. His dog, Shaggy Dog, spends every waking moment with his master. The dog sleeps in the bed with him, they eat at the same times, do everything together. Arya, the middle child, was the most problematic. Her and Sansa argued often, she wanted nothing to do with the ladylike things Sansa was doing. But her parents wished her to be just like Sansa. Little did they know that was the last thing she wanted to do. She had a great relationship with Robb and Jon, she spent a lot of her time around them. Wanting to do whatever they were doing, unfortunately, she could do what they were doing.

"Robb, Jon, come in here." Ned's voice rang out through the house from his study. Cold, but firm.

Robb and Jon laid on the couch watching tv, in the living room. The couch was cream colored, it sat on a big black rug. The tv sat on an entertainment center, directly in front of them. To the right of the couch was two large windows peering out into their large yard. Catelyn sat in a chair by the windows, reading a book, deep in thought. There was a basketball game on, but no one was really watching it. Robb and Jon each wore black sweatpants, Jon had on a red t-shirt, with the phrase, 'Stay Away' on it in black print. Robb wore a black v-neck. They were barefoot. Presently, they both were seemingly enticed by whatever they were looking at on their respective phones.

Ned could hear the tv and ascertained that they had heard him and ignored his request. He called out again, "Robb, Jon, come in here, now." His voice bellowing down the hallway. Luckily, his voice snapped Catelyn out of whatever land she was imagining from the book. She groaned loudly.

Looking up from her book, almost angrily, "Robb! Your father is calling you." She left out Jon's name on purpose. It's not that she had anything against the boy, he was always respectful. But it's just that he's the living evidence of her husband's infidelity. She never could look at him without getting depressed. She remembers the day he walked in with that baby in his arms. Claiming he came upon one of his old 'flames' and she had just given birth. Saying she died in childbirth, he had to take the child. It's not that she didn't believe him, it's just that it was so surprising, she was stunned, angry. She never really recovered.

They stopped arguing and looked at her, frozen. "Did I stutter?" She asked them, a serious look on her face.

"Robb! Jon!"

They got up quickly and walked to the study. In relation to the study, the living room was only down the hall to the left.

The door was wide open, they slowly, hesitantly entered the room.

Ned sat at his desk. Two wooden chairs rested in front of it. The desk was near the back wall, behind the desk was two large separate bookshelves. To the right of the desk was a huge trunk, which was kept locked at all times, only Ned had the key. The door was to the room was diagonal to the desk. The wall directly across from the door was a large window, looking out at the even larger yard. They had a pool where Sansa sat in a folding chair, wearing her bathing suit. She looked absolutely fascinated with whatever she was looking at on her phone. The pool was located some fifty yards directly from the window. Arya could be seen, laying in the grass in the yard with her dog, Nymeria. The only light in the room, the sunlight pouring in through the window.

"Close the door," Ned commanded.

Jon slowly closed the door.

Ned motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk, "Sit."

They approached the chairs and sat down.

Ned was wearing a white dress shirt, black slacks, and dress shoes. His blond hair was loose, but a small bun in the back to keep the hair out his face. Jon had a similar look, expect black hair. Robb let his curly black hair do whatever it wanted, very unkempt.

Ned rose from his chair and walked to look out of the window. Hands on his hips.

"Are we in trouble?" Robb asked.

Ned shook his head, "No, but I may be."

Their eyes widened, "What?" was said in unison.

"You boys are nineteen. You are old enough now I guess, however, I wanted to at least wait until the two of you were twenty-two." He turned back to them, "But this must do."

"What is going on?" Jon inquired, worried.

"Boys, I am just going to be blunt. No point beating around the bush." He sighed, "I fear that I may be leaving you all, soon."

"Where are you going?" Robb asked, confused.

"I am not going anywhere. What I mean is... I think I am going to die soon."

The boys were stunned, didn't want to believe what their father had just uttered. Firstly, complete disbelief. "Are… Are you sick?" Robb asked.

"No, I think I may be murdered."

"You can't be serious!" Jon exclaimed.

Ned came back to sit down, "Oh, but I am." He narrowed his gaze, "And you two boys, are going to have to step up."

Jon stood up, "Can you just stop, please? You are not going to die."

"Jon, I am serious. But, calm down, it's okay." He motioned to his chair, "Sit back down… Everybody dies. It's just my time. It's alright, I've made my peace."

As Jon sat back down, "Father, please."

"Just listen to me, for once in your lives. I fully believe that Tywin Lannister will plan on murdering me. He could be plotting against me right now, for all I know. He wants The _Block,_ and he will do anything to get it." He clenched his jaw, "I am frankly surprised he's let me have it for this long. He hasn't acted against me. When I won the election, I could see it in his eyes, he didn't even like me before that."

"Let's just go kill em!" Robb said.

"No, you can't just kill him like that. The killing of the Head of a family takes time, several meetings." He stood up from his chair and began to pace back and forth. "But the real reason he will try to kill me is that I'm going to close down all his whorehouses and brothels."

Jon laughed like he thought Ned was joking, but then he saw his father's expression he frowned, "Wait… you're serious?"

Robb smirked, "What's wrong with a couple brothels?" Couple different memories flooding back into the forefront of his mind.

"I am deadly serious, boys. He's profited enough off from women laying on their backs. He's also involved in the sex trades in the city."

Robb pursed his lip, "You're sure of this? Sex trades?"

"I would never act on this if I wasn't serious. His people ride around in vans and steal women off the street."

"Damn," Jon said, grimacing.

"I'm doing it because it's the right thing to do," Ned said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I've always tried to do whatever I thought was right. But I've let him have it too long… Far too long, I even considered dropping hints to the police. Let them deal with it. But I can't do that."

"Why not?" Jon asked.

Ned chuckled, "Because you don't snitch. It's not written in the Accords but it should be. Well… Technically it is."

"I don't understand," Jon said. "If Tywin hates you so much why are you giving him a reason to attack you?"

"And you're the King," Robb added, "How can he even attack you? Aren't you invincible?"

Ned half-smiled, "Both of those are good questions. I am not invincible, but I'd say it's definitely frowned upon to attempt to kill me. And I am doing this because I've let him have his way with this for a long time. I tried to ignore it, but I can't. When he brought it up that he was building a bunch of brothels I didn't think much of it. But later I heard about the sex trafficking." He shuddered, "The ten families are not supposed to be criminals, just businessmen, and women. But it's devolved into crime. And I am not excluded, I've done many bad things, I've put people to death. I've signed death warrants. So… This is happening. I'm trying to do something right, for once. I let Baelish traffic drugs. I shouldn't have done that. I let Tywin trample over these women. I let that fucking brat Viserys take the airline business because I couldn't…" His voice trailed off, he sighed.

"What were you going to say?" Jon asked.

Ned rubbed his forehead, "I'll tell you later."

"Okay… So don't we make a lot of money off the drugs?" Robb inquired.

Ned sighed, "Yes, we do. But that's not the point."

"What is the point?"

"The point is it's wrong!" He yelled. "It ruins peoples lives! People die, they overdose in the streets… I never should've got into it. I feel so ashamed." He hung his head in shame.

Jon shrugged, "Then take the drugs away."

"It's not that simple. We make more money off drugs than anything else. To take them away wouldn't cripple us… But it wouldn't help."

"I don't know what to tell you," Robb said with a shrug.

"I am not asking you for answers. I am telling you… Because of what I am about to do, Tywin will try to kill me because of it. It's half of his income. He makes a lot off the jewelry business, but it's not quite as good as it was back in the day. He needed something else. I would do the same thing if I was in his position. I just want the both of you to be ready."

"Are you sure about this? You know for sure he wants you dead?"

"I don't need assurances. This is just one of those things I know for sure. I've known Tywin a very long time."

"Then why don't we do something about it?" Robb stood up, "Protect you."

"No, of course, I'm not going to let him just kill me," Ned laughed. "Boys, Look… The real reason I'm telling you this is because the two of you are coming into the family business." It sounded like it pained him to utter the words, he wanted so much more for them. They could be anyone, do anything. But instead, they just hung around.

Robb perked up, "Really?" Sounding extremely giddy.

"Yes, my end is your beginning so to speak," Ned said with a pained smile. "Now listen closely, Robb, I am naming you my successor. Therefore when I die, there doesn't need to an election. This is very important because Tywin wants an election. Ideally, he'd want me dead before I named a successor. That will be announced at our meeting in a couple days from now, which both of you will be present for. Jon, you will essentially be Robb's, right-hand man. Keep him steady, don't let him make any rash decisions-"

"Are we going to get our marks?" Robb cut in.

Ned sighed, "I was getting to that, but yes. When we are done talking actually, Jory will take you. After that, Gonna have to get both of you some suits, getcha fitted at one of Mormont's places. Then both of you are going to The Block. You both need to become efficient with a gun in your hand, and without it. I taught Jory everything he knows, he'll relay it better than I could at this point honestly. So, after the meeting, I'll teach both of you everything you need to know."

Robb was getting more and more excited the more he listened to his father talk. He'd always wanted this to happen. Jon, however, hung his head as soon as Ned said they were coming into the business. It's not that he didn't want to do it, it's just that he was honestly kind of scared. He tried not to show it on his face. It was simply the fact that Robb jumped at the opportunity to join in on the family business. He had been waiting all his life to learn what his father did, and do it the same way once he was gone. His excitement and enthusiasm essentially reinforced Jon to go along with it too. He knew that he did have a choice, but he wouldn't sit around while Robb went off. They did everything together.

Jon was feeling uneasy, he had begun to feel uneasy since he got into the car. He was quite hesitant, Ned had made it clear that they could do whatever they wanted with their lives. And considering Ned is King of the Block, no one would stand in their way. The family had enough money to do anything. He sort of actually felt like a failure, not making anything of himself by his age.

They were currently driving to the tattoo parlor with Jory. They rode in a blacked out sedan. Jory was white, with long brown hair that came down to his shoulders. His face was round, with a pointed chin, eyes were a dark brown. He'd been running with Ned for most of his life. He wore a fitted black suit, white dress shirt, and a black tie, with black pointed shoes. He was driving. Robb sat in the passenger, with Jon in the back.

"How bad does it hurt? The tattoo?" Jon asked hesitantly.

"I'm numb to it now," Jory shrugged, "I've lost count of the tats I've got. But the first time was pretty bad honestly, my first was this tattoo just like you guys. The worst part is you have to get it on your neck. Hurts like a bitch." He brushed over his faded direwolf tattoo with his fingers. "But it won't take long if you sit still," He looked at Jon in the rearview mirror, "That's very important, don't move much."

"Why do we have to get it anyway?" Robb asked.

"It's required. Written in the Accords. Honestly, I think it's for easy identification, you know? Like just flash your neck at people so they know who you're with."

Robb shrugged, "Makes sense to me."

Jon tuned them out, looking out the window. King's Landing. The city was positively brimming with people, from all walks of life. People from Essos, easy to identify, darker skin than any other person. Jon noted a pair of people arguing on a street corner, clearly Dothraki. Seeing as they were men, long black hair, braided down their backs, bushy beards. They looked like they were about to break out into a fight in the middle of the street.

Jon looked to the sky, it was clear, not a cloud in the sky. Considering it was summertime, that was to be expected. It was so hot, every day. He wasn't looking forward to having to wear a suit every day.

The car coming to a sudden stop, startling Jon slightly.

"We're here," Jory said plainly. They'd stopped on the side of the street, in front of a menacing looking tattoo parlor. Small brick building on the corner of the street, there were no windows on the front, just a black door with spray painted words on it that said, 'Tattoo Parlor'.

Jon scoffed at the sight, "Super original name."

Jory smiled, "I know right? Come on, let's go."

The inside was just as menacing as the outside, the room reminded Jon of a barber shop, five leather chairs that could be raised and spun around, on either side of the room with mirrors in front of them. In front of every chair was a stool and a tattoo machine. The walls were all painted dark grey. Pictures and paintings of artwork adorned seemingly every space of the walls. Three ceiling fans on the ceiling were the only light in the room, the entryway was fairly dark. The light resided in the middle of the room. In the very back of the room, looked to be a office space, three glass panes peered into the room, on the same wall was a black door. Inside of the office was a burly looking bald man who sat in an office chair, looking at his computer on his desk. The office's walls were painted black, nothing on the walls but the paint, the desk was brown, nothing sat on it but a potted plant. Currently, three guys were getting tattoos, all three sat in chairs on the left side of the room.

Jory stepped out into the light and called out to the man in the office, waving, "Hey Jimmy!" Robb and Jon followed him, but they stopped just outside the darkness.

The man grinned when he saw Jory, rising from his chair quickly, "Jory? Is that you?" Jimmy wore a white t-shirt and black leather vest, blue jeans, and boots. He was bald with a yellow handlebar mustache. He was very tall and muscular. His arms were was covered in various tattoos, assumingly, the rest of his body as well.

"Yeah, it's me you old goat," Jory laughed.

Jimmy came out to meet Jory in the middle of the room, Jory reached his hand out for a shake. But Jimmy swatted it away and pulled him into a bear hug. When they were done with their hug Jory stepped back, somewhat out of breath because Jimmy was squeezing him so hard.

Jory turned around and motioned to the boys, "Brought two freshies for ya." He paused to breathe in and out a couple times, "Ned's boys."

Jimmy laughed heartily, "Ned's boy's huh? Coming to get their marks?"

"That they are," Jory replied.

Jimmy beckoned to them, "Get over here! Lemme get a good look at ya."

Robb squared his shoulders and stood up as straight as he could before he stepped forward, Jon tried to look similar and followed him.

Jimmy clasped Robb shoulders once he got in range, he shook him slightly, then did the same with Jon. After that he moved back, he grunted, "They're alright. Need to gain some weight, more muscle can never hurt."

Jory smirked, "Alright, Jim, we're not here for you to check them out. We're here so you can mark them."

"Right… Right. I'll do it." He motioned to the chairs to his left, "Go sit in those… I'll be back."

He turned and went into his office, Robb and Jon got seated in chairs right next to each other. Robb nudged Jon, "You nervous?"

Jon responded, "No?"

Robb laughed, "Really? You look like it."

Jory crossed his arms over his chest, "It'll be alright."

Jimmy returned with a black apron, and a black latex glove. "Who's going first?"

"I will," Robb said.

Jimmy smiled, "I like the enthusiasm." He came and sat on the stool in front of him, he lowered Robb's chair and spun him around so the right side of his neck faced him. Then grabbed the pencil and turned the machine on. "Lean your neck to your left and don't move until I say so," He commanded.

Robb nodded and did as he was told.

Seconds later, he was getting a tattoo. It hurt more than he expected, surprised, he actually yelped a little. But he toughed it out, staying as still as he could. Before he knew it, Jim was done. Robb admired his new tattoo in the mirror, the direwolf, symbol of his family. It was black, about the size of his fist. He was amazed by the detail. It looked just like any picture he'd ever seen of it.

He grinned, "That's fucking awesome."

"Fucking A right it's awesome," Jory told him. "That tattoo means free blowjobs for life."

Robb turned around and looked at him, "Really?" Eyes wide.

Jory laughed, "Fuck no. You still gotta work for it… But… It does help."

"How?"

"Well, that mark gets you into just about anywhere you wanna go. Everybody in the city knows the Stark name, most fear it. You guys do realize your father is the most powerful man in the city?"

"Of course we do."

Jon was next, seeing how Robb did gave him some confidence. They always felt like they had to one-up each other. But as soon as Jim started he made a similar sound. He gripped the arms the of air as tight as he could, closed his eyes and thought of something else. It definitely felt like it took longer for his tattoo than Robb's. But eventually, Jon too was looking gleefully at his new tattoo.

"Alright," Jimmy said. "Listen closely, you boys need to take care of that of it. Imagine I just cut a chunk of skin off your necks. Keep a bandage on it for awhile until it's fully healed, at least three days. You gotta wash it several times a day, and put lotion on too-"

"I think they got it, Jim," Jory said, cutting him off. "Plus, we got places to be."

Jimmy put his hands on his hips, almost offended, "Is that right?"

"Yeah, we gotta get em some suits. Then I gotta teach them the basics with guns."

Jim scoffed, "You boys never held a gun before?" They both shook their heads, "Well… It's really simple, point and shoot."

"There's a bit more to it than that," Jory said.

"Whatever you say," Jimmy shrugged.

"It's not whatever I say, it's fact," Jory said, slightly irritated.

"Whatever you say," Jim repeated.

"Fuck off."

* * *

 **Hey, that's the end of the first chapter. This could've been ten thousand plus words but I figured that was too long. This was mainly a setup chapter. The next one really gets the ball rolling, introduces a lot of characters of the other characters.  
**

 **I really do hope you liked it. I've had this idea for a very long time.**

 **I'd love a review, lemme know what you think. Faves and alerts are cool too.**


	2. You Should Be Scared

**I'm glad so many of you caught onto The Godfather vibe. That was completely intentional.**

 **Chapter 2: You Should Be Scared**

"That's what he said?" Ned seethed.

Jory nodded, "That's exactly what he said."

"Fuck off?"

"Yeah. Then he just started yelling incoherently at me, I just left after that." 

Ned was standing on the front porch of the estate, he came outside to meet Jory. Who had come to relay some distressing news. 

"I can't believe Giovanni would do that," Ned sighed. "He must have known what I have to do now, he's made all his payments before this. Why cause an issue now?"

"I don't know what to tell you, boss," Jory shrugged.

Ned clasped his hands, "Tell you what, take Niko and go over there. See what his fucking deal is if he still won't pay… You know what you have to do… And bring Robb and Jon with you, they need to learn." 

Ned gave them an easy task, another way the family made money was they'd offer protection to local businesses. In return, they were given ten percent of total income at the end of every month. If anyone knew that a business was under Stark protection, they wouldn't think about robbing it, burning it, or even starting a fight in it. Protection isn't offered to anyone, and it's not forced upon business owners. A contract is always drafted up, which is signed by both the family and the business owner. It's used to remind the owner that they owe the family every month, it also contractually binding. The money must be paid every month. Which would make you think that the business owners would be happy to give up the money when it was asked for. That is not always the case. A certain man named, Giovanni, owned a local bar in King's Landing, it was a very popular bar. The bar is not owned by the Baratheon's, unlike a lot of the bars in the city. Even Robb and Jon had been there several times. But last month Giovanni claimed that he didn't have the money and told them to fuck off. Which was quite peculiar because Giovanni had never happened before. Ned's people didn't know what to say so they just left. 

They were on their way in the car, Jon was trying to act cool. But he was actually shaking. He sat in the back with Robb, who was next to him. In the two front seats were Jory and Niko, two of Ned's best men. Jory was driving. Niko was a light-skinned male, with a long face, and bright green eyes. He had a buzz cut, his hair is black. He was a mercenary from Braavos, that came to King's Landing for a better life. Ned found him, living out of his car and gave him a job. 

"Looking a little nervous, brother," Robb said with a huge grin on his face, nudging him with his elbow. He was so excited he couldn't stop smiling. he was nervous, but he couldn't help but be excited. He looked to be almost jumping up and down in his seat. 

"Don't act like you're not feeling the same way," Jon replied, trying not to look fazed. It had been two days since they got their tattoos. They no longer needed bandages, the direwolf was now shown off nicely on their necks. Ned was also holding his meeting today when he would name Robb his successor. 

"Listen, boys, this is a routine job. It's happened hundreds of times before," Niko said. 

"Really?" Jon inquired.

"Yeah," Jory nodded, checking the rearview mirror. "I myself have been on at least twenty of these kinds of trips. Giovanni's never been an issue before, but others definitely had."

"How do these trips normally go?"

"Typically, We go in there and threaten them a little bit. Then they hand over the cash." Said Niko.

"But," Jory continued. "Sometimes these business owners don't wanna hand over the money. If that happens, things can get nasty."

Robb frowned, "What does that mean?"

"Well, the place gets trashed," Niko said simply.

Robb scoffed, "That's as nasty as it gets?" Clearly trying to sound tough.

Niko cocked his head to the side to look at him and said, "You don't want it to get nastier than that."

"Will it?" Robb said slowly.

"It might. It all depends on Giovanni."

Jon looked out the window, it was raining hard. They were currently driving under train tracks. He watched as the pedestrians walked quickly with their umbrellas, or just covering their heads. The weather was drastically different from a couple days ago, it was cold today.

Niko pulled a silver Beretta out of his jacket pocket and pulled the slide black. The sound made Jon snapped his head in his direction, "Why'd you make it sound so easy, but then pull a gun out?" Jon asked, getting nervous again.

"Can't ever be too careful, I don't know what's gonna happen when we get in there."

Jory nodded, "I've got mine too. Ned would have my head if one of the two of you's got hurt. Everything will be fine, as long as Giovanni gives us the money."

"Why don't we have one?" Robb asked.

Jory chuckled, "Well… I guess we'll have to rectify that at some point. Later though, we're almost there," Jory announced.

Jon swallowed hard and shook his head to try to shake his nerves. 

"How much longer?" Robb wanted to know.

"Couple of minutes."

Two minutes later, Jory pulled the car into a parking lot next to the bar.

Niko turned to look at Robb and Jon. "Alright boys, we're gonna go in, nice and slow. We'll do all the talking, the both of you will stand back and watch."

They nodded.

Moments later they exited the car, it was a blacked out SUV.

Niko put his gun back into his jacket pocket. He wore a grey trench coat over his all black suit with black pointed shoes. Jory wore a similar outfit, except he wore a black baseball cap.

After Robb and Jon got marked, Jory took them to get suits. They each got three full suits.

Robb obtained an all-black suit, a navy suit, and gray suit. He'd wear a white dress shirt with the navy and gray suits, black tie with black or brown dress shoes. He was currently wearing the navy suit. 

Jon picked a gray suit, a burgundy suit, and a black one. With all, he would wear a white dress shirt, a black tie or bowtie, and black dress shoes. He wore the black suit now. 

The place was called _The Silver Dollar._ Jon admired the neon sign that hung over the glass double doors as they walked inside.

The bar was close to empty, only a couple of guys drinking at the bar. And few playing pool in the corner of the room. Which was to expected as it was close to midday. Giovanni stood behind the bar, he was light-skinned like Niko. He was considerably more fat though, he was balding. The only hair on his head was on the sides. He wore a white dress shirt, black pants, and shoes. Directly behind him was a plenty of shelves that showed off all the various liquors the bar had. Within arms reach of Giovanni was six bar taps. The bar was directly diagonal to the doors on the south wall. He saw them come in, and he knew who they were, why there were here. 

He almost began to shake, he tried to look calm. They approached him.

"Giovanni," said Niko as they walked up.

Niko and Jory sat at the bar, Robb and Jon kind of stood back near the door, but close enough that they could hear what was being said. Jon crossed his arms over his chest and tried to look confident. Robb stuck his hands in his pockets and stood up straight. 

Giovanni nodded, "Boys," he acknowledged them. Then reaching for a glass, and a dishrag to clean it with.

Jory clasped his hands on top of the bar, he sighed. "I want a shot of whiskey. You want one Niko?"

"Uhm… Yeah, sure," Niko replied with a half-smile.

Giovanni cleared his throat, "Alright then, two shots."

"You know why we are here," Jory told him. Knowing full well he didn't need to say anything for Giovanni to know what was happening.

"I do," Giovanni replied. Putting a shot class in front of Jory and Niko, then filling them with whiskey from the shelves behind him.

"So, cough it up," Jory commanded, downing the whiskey in one gulp. Niko did the same.

He was silent for a moment, putting the whiskey bottle back where he found it. Returning his gaze to them. He wiped sweat from his brow with his forearm. "I don't want protection anymore." 

Jory snorted, "What did you just say?"

"I-I don't want protection anymore."

"You signed a contract, you dolt," Niko reminded him.

"I want out of it."

"You'll have to take that up with the boss then. But that doesn't mean you get off your payment this month. You still have to pay." 

Giovanni swallowed hard, then cleared his throat, "I don't have the money—"

Jory slammed his fist on the bar, everyone in the bar looked over. "Don't even say it. That's what you told me last time I was in here. I don't want to hear it."

Niko pointed at him, "You know what has to happen if you don't hand over the money."

Giovanni held his hands up like a gun was being waved in his face. "Yes… yes, I know."

Jory took a deep breath, "Giovanni, please, I like this place. I like you, you're a nice guy. What's the deal? You've never had an issue with payments before, why cause a problem now?"

"I..I don't have it."

"And why not?" Niko raised his voice.

Giovanni looked like he didn't know what to do with his hands. Interchanging sticking them in his pockets, and holding them behind his back. "Because business hasn't exactly been-"

"That's a lie and you know it, this place is buzzing with people every night," Jory said. "I've seen it myself, I've driven by here several times and seen the parking lot full of cars. There were so many people in here they spilled out into the sidewalk outside." He sighed, "Giovanni, why are you doing this to yourself? Have you been talking with someone?"

"What?... No! What do you want me to say? I've told you twice now that I don't have the money. I don't know what else to say," Giovanni nervously shrugged.

"You better think of something fast, cause you owe the boss ten percent."

Jon nudged Robb with his elbow, "What's gonna happen?" He wanted to know.

"I dunno, but I can't wait."

Things were getting heated.

Jory got as close as he could to him without climbing over the bar, "Giovanni, you've got two options. You either give us the money, or this place is gonna look a lot dirtier in a little bit." 

"I have to provide for my family, I can't just give up ten percent of my take."

"You've been giving up ten percent for months! What's so different now?" Niko hissed.

"You were a lot more confident last time I was in here," Jory added. "Right now, you are clearly nervous. Why you so shaky right now?" He pointed to Giovanni's hands, which were trembling.

"You fuckers are threatening me, of course, I'm nervous!" Giovanni exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. 

To Niko's right, a man came over from the pool table, clutching a pool cue in his left hand. "What the fuck is going on here?" He asked. "Giovanni, are these guys bothering you?"

Niko snapped his head in the man's direction, "Stay the fuck out of it!"

The man took a few steps closer to Niko, "You guys just can't come in here and harass Giovanni." The man was taller than Niko and visibly muscular. He was balding, with a bushy beard. 

Niko rose from the bar, "Get the fuck back," he warned him.

"Don't tell me what to do," He looked down at him.

Niko pulled his collar down to reveal his tattoo, "You see that?"

"So what? You're a Stark man. I don't give a shit. You think I'm scared of you?" The rest of the patrons heard the man say, 'Stark.' They all began to talk loudly amongst themselves. 

Niko smirked, " _You should be scared._ "

Jory turned around to face Robb and Jon, "One of you go back to the car and get the molotovs out of the trunk."

Without hesitation, Robb ran out to the car to get them. Jon didn't even have time to consider moving.

"Molotovs? You can't-"

"We can, and we will. You knew what would happen if you didn't pay up."

Robb came back into the bar, carrying a crate of molotovs.

"I dunno who you think you are, coming in here. But you really should get the fuck out, before you get hurt." The man threatened, pushing Niko back.

Niko put a finger in his face, "You piece of shit," he insulted him.

Then he grabbed the man's head and slammed it against the bar. Assuming he wouldn't bother him anymore, he turned back to Giovanni.

The man fell to his knees, but then he stormed back up seconds later. He hit Niko over the back with the pool cue, snapping it in half. 

"Motherfucker!" Niko cursed, pulling his gun and pointing it at the man.

Robb came back into the bar, carrying a crate of molotovs. He gasped, "What the fuck is going on?" Moving to stand next to Jon, mouth completely agape.

"This is the craziest thing that I've ever seen!" Jon exclaimed. Suddenly, he felt a rush of adrenaline. A shadow of a smile appeared on his face, heart racing.

The man smirked at the sight of the gun being pointed at him, "So what? You gonna shoot me?"

"If you move another muscle, you best believe I'll blow your brains out!" Niko spat. The rest of the patrons in the bar ran out in fear.

Jory and Giovanni continued to argue.

"I'll call the city watch!" Giovanni threatened.

"Go ahead," Jory laughed. "That won't change anything."

He grunted angrily and narrowed his gaze. "Ned doesn't even need the money! He's filthy fucking rich!" Giovanni said. "I'm tired of being stepped on. I think it's time you fuckers left my fucking bar!" He reached under the bar, half a second later he held a sawed-off double barrel shotgun, he pointed it at Jory. 

"Alright, if that's how it's gotta be," Jory said, standing up, pulling his gun and pointing it at him.

"Holy shit!" Robb yelled.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing, Giovanni? You wanna go down this road?" said Niko, glancing his direction, then looking back to the man.

"Get the fuck out of my bar! I'll shoot!"

The man laughed, "You fucking heard him! Get the fuck out of here!" He took a step closer to Niko.

Niko waved the gun around, "I told you not to move!" He lamped the man in the face with the side of his gun.

The man covered his face and howled in pain, taking several steps backward. Moments later he moved his hands to reveal a broken and bleeding nose. A menacing scowl appeared on his face, fists clenched so tight his nails dug into his palm. Blood poured from his nose, down his face, and around his mouth. 

"I'll kill you!" The man bellowed before he charged at Niko. 

He didn't get very far because as soon as he moved, Niko shot him twice in the gut. The man collapsed to the floor, loudly groaning in pain, wallowing as he tried to cover his wound with both his hands.

Niko crouched down to look at him, "I did tell you not to move." He whispered with a smile.

The man groaned angrily, he tried to speak but he couldn't get the words out. He was somewhat hyperventilating like it was becoming harder to breathe. He wasn't doing a very good job of covering his wound because blood was beginning to pool around him. 

"Oh fuck," Jon grimaced at the sight. He considered covering his eyes and looking away, but he didn't want to look weak. Making himself look at the dying man proved difficult though.

"Damn," Robb muttered under his breath.

Niko pressed the barrel of his gun to the man's forehead. "Don't worry, it'll all be over soon." He looked away so he wouldn't get blood on his face. "I suggest you make your peace if you believe in the gods."

The man just made out the loudest noise he could muster. Niko pulled the trigger to shut him up. The man's blood and brains sprayed all over the floor, and on Niko's jacket. 

"What the fuck!?" Giovanni exclaimed. "You just killed a man in my bar."

Niko stood brushed himself off, "He made his own choice." He pointed his gun at Giovanni.

"You brought this on yourself, Giovanni. We were gonna let you out before we trashed the place. I wasn't even going to use the molotovs, I thought maybe they'd entice you to pay up. But now you're pointing a gun at me, with the intent to kill me and my friends here. You've also managed to flat out piss me off and disappoint me all at the same time as well. Now, you get to stay inside," Jory told him.

"What the fuck does that mean?" Giovanni inquired fiercely.

Niko laughed, "We're gonna use those molotovs to burn this place to the ground. With you inside!"

Robb and Jon froze, the loud declaration of this man's death was very surprising.

Giovanni gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the shotgun. "Okay then. So? We gonna do this? I've never been in a shootout before."

Jory sensed he was about to open up the barrels of the shotgun into his chest, he visibly stiffened, turning away.

Shots rang out, but not from Giovanni's gun. Niko shot him twice, one in the gut and one in the chest. Blood misted into the air, Giovanni dropped his gun and fell into the shelves behind him. Bottles broke and fell off, eventually, the whole shelf broke and crashed onto Giovanni. He collapsed onto the floor with the shelf on top of him. 

Jory let out a shaky breath, realizing he hadn't been killed. Shivers were sent down his spine, he shuddered.

Niko snorted, "You're welcome."

"Fuck off," Jory responded, looking back at Robb and Jon. Who were in the same exact spot they were in when they came in the bar. Both their mouths were wide open, they looked like they hadn't blinked in a while for fear of missing anything. 

Niko climbed over the bar, He opened the cash register, and pulled all the money out of it. Stuffing it into his pockets.

Jory walked over to Robb with the molotovs.

"You really gonna use these?" Robb said, glancing down the crate in his hands. 

"Yeah, I think so." He replied, taking a molotov out of the crate, and pulled his lighter out of his jacket pocket.

"Niko, how much?" Jory asked.

Niko grunted, "Not enough."

"Too bad."

Niko climbed back over the bar, walked to Robb, he took a molotov out, and his own lighter.

Jory lit the molotov, "Hey Gio! You still alive over there? You really shoulda given us the fucking money, you dolt." He threw the molotov at the back of the room, near the pool table.

Niko lit his molotov, he threw it at the bar, splashing behind it. 

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Jory said, moving quickly to kick the front door open.

Jon and Robb pulled themselves together and left with them. 

They began walking towards the car, it was still raining heavily.

"I wish it wasn't raining," Jory said, as they entered the car. "Fucking prick."

Sirens of city watch patrol cars could be heard as Jory got the car started.

"We'd better get going," Jon said, nervously.

"Nah, I'm in no hurry," Jory said, as he took off his hat and placed it on the dash.

"Why the fuck not?" Jon wanted to know, his voice raised.

"Jon, your father owns almost every fucking cop in this damned city. The city watch is full of dirty cops. Of course not all of them, but a vast majority. None of them will deny some extra cash on the side. They know the car. We could do a drive-by, right now. And they wouldn't bat an eye, they're just coming because they're supposed to."

Robb's eyes widened, "Are you serious?"

"Fucking-A right I'm serious."

"That's awesome!"

"Can we just go?" Jon asked.

"Fine," Jory said, putting the car into reverse, backing up.

Five police cars came flying to a stop out front of the bar, lights on. The cops got out of their cars, they went and stood in front of the bar. Staring into the flames, they started talking amongst themselves. Looking like this was just another day on the job, a routine thing. The building was still on fire, the entire inside of the building was completely engulfed in flames. 

Jory rolled his window down and waved to cops as they pulled out of the parking lot and into the street.

Niko's phone started ringing, he reached into his pant pocket and pulled it out, answering it.

"Yeah, hey boss."

"How'd it go? Well, not like we expected, Giovanni didn't cooperate. He wouldn't give up the money, so, we burned the place down."

Jon could hear a very vocal reaction through the phone.

"Calm down, it's pouring rain, the place won't go all the way down. Oh, and I killed Giovanni and some other schmuck who got in my face." 

Robb playfully slapped Jon's knee, "Wasn't that awesome?"

Jon put his hand over his heart, it was still beating out of his chest. At first, he was so nervous he felt like he might pass out. But then somehow the nervousness was washed away, and he almost got excited. Which depressed him because he didn't feel like he should be excited about two people dying and arson. 

He cleared his throat. "Uh, Yeah, it was." He said, scratching the back of his head.

Robb was positively giddy, beaming. "I know right!"

"Alright boss," Niko and Ned had been having a conversation this whole time, but now he hung up.

"Jory, turn around, we need to go to The Block."

"Oh shit. I forgot. The fucking meeting is today isn't it?"

"Yeah. I didn't think about it either."

Now Robb was really getting excited. He knew that he would be named the successor today. Jon was actually really curious about how The Block was run. He figured he would have to become an expert on everything that had to do with The Block. He knew Robb wouldn't take time to learn everything there was to know about it. So burden was his to bare as his right-hand man. But that didn't mean he didn't want to go home.

"That's great!" Robb said.

"Yeah," Jon said, actually trying to sound enthusiastic. But according to the look at Jory gave him in the rearview mirror, his attempt didn't go well. 

The Block was a huge stone building, it's old square building. When the organization was formed, the building was designed and built months later. It's three stories tall. The first floor is reminiscent of that of a country club. Contains a large bar and food area, used specifically for people employed by the families to use whilst meetings happen. The second floor is used entirely for meetings. Meetings of all the families always took place there. 

The front of the building was covered with windows, more on the ground floor than the second floor. So outsiders couldn't clearly see meetings happening. All the windows were large three-paned glass, with ornate window sills. 

Recently built was smaller building that was attached to The Block that came to be known as was The Commune. Their products sold and produced by the families were shown off or sold. This was an easy way for families to do business with each other. For example, in this building was a shooting range, where several Frey employees showed off their new weaponry. 

In front of the building was a large cul de sac where families would leave their cars.

Their car came to a halt, on a side street because the cul de sac was full of cars. It was easy to see that every leader from every family was inside based on the fact every car had the family's sigil plastered on the side of it. 

"Alright guys, you've already been here. But not when it was full of people. In fact, it was pretty empty last time we were here," Jory said. Turning around in his seat to look at Robb and Jon. "Everything is going to be fine. We are going straight to the conference room." 

Niko smirked, "Just don't look at anyone for too long."

Several people stood out front smoking, cigarettes, blunts, and cigars alike. All of them turned to eyeball Robb and Jon approach the doors. The front doors were double, masterfully crafted, sporting every single sigil of all ten families. Ornately carved into it, Jon noticed the Stark, Lannister, Martell, Bolton, Targaryen, Mormont, Frey, Tyrell, Baratheon, Greyjoy sigils on either side of the door. Three stone steps lead inside.

Niko pushed both doors open like he'd done it a thousand times. Directly inside was a long hallway, bright red rug ran from the door to the end of the hall. All along the walls were pictures of every King of The Block ever.

At the end of the hallway was a wooden desk, a middle-aged man stood. A white man, bald with a curly mustache. He wore a tuxedo. Directly to his right, as was a closest clearly of costs, on the wall behind him was also a hat rack. 

Jory opened his arms like he intended on embracing the man as he approached the desk. 

"Ichabod!" He said warmly.

Robb and Jon remembered the man, he was friendly. He spoke to you like he'd known you his entire life.

"Gentleman," Ichabod regarded them. Making eye contact with each of them quickly. "Would any of you like to leave your coats with me? I also insist the four of you quickly head upstairs, the meeting will commence soon."

Niko and Jory removed their overcoats, placing them on the desk.

"Aye. We'll be up there soon," Niko said with a smile. Then he turned the corner, glancing back to Robb and Jon, "Come on boys, time for you to see what this is all about."

They followed after him, Jory exchanged a few more words with Ichabod before trailing behind them.

A cacophony of sound assaulted their ears. The hallway opened up into a huge bar area, there were four bartenders making drinks with plenty of other people yelling their orders at them from the bar or from the seating area in front of the bar. Five or six couches and chairs sat in a circle with a huge flat screen on a wall in front of them. Every chair was filled, by drunk or getting there men and women. All eyes either glued to the flat screen or the glasses in their hands. Everyone drunk heavily when they were at The Block because all the tabs were paid for by their employers. Free drinks meant to drink as much as you wanted. As long as you didn't get completely shit-faced, they still had jobs to do. 

Niko lead them to the elevator across the room. He turned around and walked backward, "This is where all the magic happens." 

Jon stuck his hand in hands in his pockets, "Yeah," he scoffed. "I can tell."

They reached the elevator, Niko presses the button for up.

Robb noticed a button for down, "Is there a basement?"

Niko pursed his lips, "You could say that."

"What's down there?" Jon asked.

"You don't want to know. Ask your father."

Before Jon could ask any more questions, Jory caught up, "I don't even know why this fucking thing is here. It's like two flights of stairs. What's the big deal?" 

The elevator arrived, doors opened and they went in. Jory pushed the button for level two.

"Maybe it's got something to do with Olenna Tyrell? She's fucking old."

Jory snorted, "Right. I forgot."

"Hard to forget that lady," Niko retorted.

The doors opened. Jory and Niko sped out and took a right. Robb and Jon hurried after them.

This floor contains several rooms. Most walls were made of glass and contained one or two tables with plenty of people sitting at them. Lot of them looked to be arguing about something. 

Jory and Niko took them down another long hallway that led to a room that was clearly the conference room. Ceiling to floor glass panes on either side of the lament door. Two men in suits stood on both sides of the door, hands held behind their backs.

Robb could barely peer inside the room, he saw people sitting down at a long table. His heart began to race, beating out of his chest, slightly perspiring. He tried not took nervous.

Jory wordlessly acknowledged both men before opened the door and entered the room. Niko went next.

As soon as Niko was gone, an older man came into view. He sat at the head of the table, he had cold dead eyes that stared Robb in the face. His face was tired, yet threatening. Robb froze. He could only guess who the man was. But he felt like he already knew. 

It could only be Tywin Lannister.

 **This was supposed to be longer. I'd planned on introducing Dany in this chapter. But I felt like I just need to get another chapter out, so I just ended it there. Dany will come around next time.**


	3. Draw a Line

**I suck.**

 **It's taken so long and I'm sorry.**

 **Writer's block and college is a shitty mix. It's been difficult to focus on this with all the shit I've got going on. I'm gonna try really hard to be better moving forward.**

 **Chapter 3: Draw a Line, with your Worthless Fucking Hands.**

Robb felt paralyzed. Those eyes burned right through him. He looked like he'd been plotting to murder him ever since he was born. Robb always tried to look confident, proud, sure of himself. But Tywin's stare completely disarmed him.

Tywin was an older gentleman, with gray thinning hair. He seemed to rarely blink, only when absolutely necessary. A principled man, some might even say honorable under the right light. Most say he's an evil, conniving man. Who will do whatever he feels necessary to get what he wants. It's common knowledge what he wants; The Block. Anyone who isn't blind can see, the way he looks at Ned, like has a planned out way to murder him. He wore a black suit with a dark red shirt, no tie. 

Luckily, Jon there to snap Robb out of his trance, by way of nudging him forward.

Robb shook his head to make sure he was back to reality before he slowly stepped into the room. Unfortunately, many more other pairs of eyes were waiting to look at him.

There was a long wooden table, lined with ten chairs, with ten inhabitants. The room was surprising like rather small. The only other thing in the room was in the corner an intricate table, that could be opened, containing various liquors. Most ever leader in the room had a glass of liquor with them. On the far wall was a floor to ceiling window, that looked out into the streets of the city. 

A vocal scoff rang out, "This is the child we've been waiting for?" A gray-haired older woman, wearing a black dress, she sat to the left of Tywin. She glared impatiently at Robb. 

Ned stood in front of the window, his chair was at the head of the table, opposite Tywin. "Yes, Olenna. My son," he said.

Olenna Tyrell. The leader of the Tyrell family, respected by every person at the table, she can be nasty when she wishes to be. 

Jon also slowly stepped into the room behind Robb.

"And my other son," Ned said, motioning to Jon.

"Why is the bastard here?" A considerably younger man compared to the rest of the room. He wore an all black suit with a purple shirt, no tie. A popular, well-known man, his silver hair and violet eyes made him very easy to see. He stuck out like a sore thumb. He's a scrawny man, not strong by any means. He sat next to Olenna. 

Ned gritted his teeth, "Watch your tongue, Viserys. You poor impotent child. I'd think you'd know your place by now."

"How dare you speak to me—"

"Shut the fuck up, Viserys. No one wants to hear to whine." Another man cut him off. 

I'll just say it." The man continued. "We all want to know. Why did we have to wait for them?" A man called out. He sat to the left of Tywin. A seasoned, wealthy man, considering everyone in the city had to eat. He wore a navy suit with a white shirt, no tie. His brown hair was hard to see because he had so little left of it.

"Well, Roose," Ned clasped his hands. "I'm glad you asked. With that, I'll proceed with our meeting."

Also seated at the table was Walder Frey, a grumpy old man. Not very well liked by anyone really, they'll all just waiting for him to die. He can be quite blunt most times, often ornery. He sat to the left of Roose. 

Surprisingly quite so far has been Robert Baratheon, he sat next to Walder. A larger man, long brown hair with a bushy beard. All he really does is get drunk and whine about how much he misses his sweet Lyanna. He'll often threaten Viserys for even breathing sometimes. The name Targaryen makes him angry even to hear. He has no aspirations, he eats, he drinks, he fucks, then he goes to sleep. When he wakes up he does it all over again. Currently, he wore a black suit, and a white shirt that needed to be buttoned a couple more times, his abundant hair was spilling out. 

Next to him was a fishy smelling man, named Euron Greyjoy. He's spent his entire life around boats and ports. He gains most of his money through imports, exports, shipping. Recently he's come into the cruise business, he owns two large cruise ships that travel all around Westeros. A middle-aged man, not popular amongst the leaders, but no one hates him. He wore a dark blue suit, with a black shirt, no tie.

"Finally," another man called out. "I've things that need to be tended to." An olive-skinned man, Oberyn Martell, seated next to Viserys. He wore a tan suit, white shirt, with no tie. The Martell worked in conjunction with the Starks to control all production and distribution of any and all drugs in the city. Unlike Ned, Oberyn loved the drug business. 

Low grumbles could be heard from a man seated next to Oberyn. Yet another older man, Jeor Mormont. A close friend of Ned, well liked by everyone at the table. Though his business was clothes, he could be brutal whenever necessary. Ned himself has witnessed him beating men to death with his fists. Seemingly the only thing he wore were black leather jackets, the same black beret, the same black circular sunglasses that he wore inside. He often could be seen smoking a cigar, he smoked one now. 

Robb and Jon shifted to stand on either side of the door. Jory and Niko went and stood behind Ned.

Ned cleared his throat, "Before I get to what I need to say. If any of you have any pressing issues. Best say them now."

Robert spoke up, "You all know what I am going to say… Rhaegar Targaryen. He needs to be found."

Nearly everyone in the room groaned or muttered something to themselves.

"For fucks sakes, Robert," Roose said. "Spare us. The man is dead."

Robert slammed his hand on the table. "He's not! Show me the body. If he was dead I would've seen the body, or I would've taken his life myself… I have my people combing the desert for the man. If was dead, I would know. The man is alive." 

Viserys smirked, "You've been looking for him for years. What makes you think you'll find him now?"

"Shut your mouth, boy," Robert threatened. He sat up in his chair, "I've made my thoughts about you known to all many times. I detest you. I loathe you. You are deplorable. I've begged Ned to let me squish your head with my own two hands. I-" 

"That's enough Robert," Ned cut in.

"Although, while we on are the subject," Olenna said. "Let's say for example Rhaegar is alive. Viserys, has he made contact with you?"

Viserys snorted, "No, of course not."

"Do you think he's alive?" Tywin asked him. Everyone stole a glance at the old Lannister when he spoke for the first time in this meeting.

Viserys paled and began to stutter. 

"Do you think he's alive?" Tywin asked again, louder.

"I don't know!" Viserys finally squeaked out.

"If you do," Robert hissed, pointing a finger at him. "You best tell me immediately. If you don't, and I find out about it. I'll beat you senseless. There might need to be a vote for me to kill you, but there ain't a rule about beating the shit outta ya. If it were up to me, I'd put you and your bitch sister in a pit and bury you alive."

Euron chuckled, "I'd pay to that."

Viserys looked like he'd seen a ghost. His face was white as a sheet.

"That's enough about that," Jeor grumbled, huffing his cigar. "Let's move on, shall we?... Cars, I want the business."

Ned stroked his beard, "Hmm… Dealerships? Production?"

Jeor nodded, "Both. There's a bunch of dealerships in the city, I want to build a factory in the North. Plenty of unused lands up there." 

"Alright, anybody else want in?" Ned asked the room.

"Which companies?" Tywin asked.

"Not all of them, just Pulsi, Avent, and Swann. All three dealerships, the factory will produce Swann probably."

"Fine. I want Zetele. I've been in talks with the current owner for some time. The dealership near the Red Keep, I don't care for production." 

"You can have it," Jeor told him.

"Anyone else?" Ned inquired with a small sigh. He waited at least thirty seconds and no one said anything. "Okay, any of the other dealerships and companies are up grabs. Jeor, You're good to go."

Jeor smiled, "Great."

"Ned, I've been meaning to call you," Oberyn said. "But since we're all here, I'll just say it now… We've developed a new product."

"A new drug?" Roose asked.

"Yeah," Oberyn replies. "We call it Zerro. Highly addictive, it's versatile as fuck. Smoke it, snort it, shoot it, whatever you want. We expect it to sell like wildfire."

"When?" Ned asked.

"Today. Your people have probably already picked it up."

Ned crossed his arms over his chest, "Fine… I'll get to what a need to say now." He looked at Robb, "Come over here."

Robb sucked in a deep breath and let it out before he moved. He could feel every pair of eyes glaring at him. He tried not look fazed.

As Robb moved to stand next to his father, Tywin's face changed from pure boredom to a combination of disappointment and disbelief. He muttered quietly to himself, "You have got to be fucking kidding me." Fists clenching tightly under the table. 

"This is my son, Robb," Ned said brightly. "Many of you can probably already guess what I am about to say."

Walder grumbled, "Do you even need to say it?"

Ned smirked, "My son, Robb Stark, in the event of my death, will succeed me." 

Oberyn raised his eyebrows, "Okay? I really don't care as long as he keeps up with our agreement, Ned."

Ned looked at him, "He will."

Oberyn sat back in his chair as if to go sleep, "Good."

"You will let this boy succeed you?" Olenna asked.

"I will," Ned replied. "He'll be ready."

Viserys was clearly upset. It was common knowledge that he wanted The Block to continue his family's legacy. As much as he hated to say it, he knew he wouldn't have it anytime soon.

Tywin said through gritted teeth, "So, this is how it is?"

Ned nodded slowly, "It is."

Tywin laughed, "Ha! You have got to be fucking kidding me. You'd rather let that child succeed you than one of us? Huh? You coward."

"One of you?" Ned said. "No. I just want to keep the title from _you._ It's no secret that we share no love between us, Tywin. That's okay, we were never supposed to. I know you lay awake at night thinking of much you wish my death. You hate me. I hate you. It's mutual… I'll do anything I can to keep The Block from you. Speaking of which, from this day onward I won't allow you to traffic women."

Tywin face turned into a scowl, "What did you say?"

"Sex trafficking. You steal women of the side of the street. You keep them in basements, lock them away and hope I won't see them. I do. You sell them, for sex, for money. You send them to Essos, you hold auctions every Sunday and Monday. It's gone on long enough. You can keep the brothels and strip clubs. But you must release all the women you hold captive." 

Olenna looked appalled, "Tywin, is this true?"

"No. Of course not," he replied quickly.

"You deny it?" Ned asked him.

"Yes. That's disgusting."

Ned smiled, "82 Gum Street."

Tywin's eyes widened, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jory stepped up, "82 Gum Street. Men baring your mark, The Lion of House Lannister. Were seen going in and out of a building there. Upon further investigation, at least twenty women were found in the basement. They were malnourished, sick, weak. You must have some pretty fucked up buyers."

"But that's just one," Ned continued. "There's another building just down the road, the women in there were more well kept. There weren't starving or sick. I suppose they are worth more that way."

"That's not how we are supposed to do things here," Jeor said.

"Do you deny it?" Ned asked him again.

Tywin hung his head and cursed under his breath. When he looked back up, his face portrayed absolute hatred. He shot up from his chair, looking at Ned. "What's your problem? Do you want to kick dirt at me? I am I all that bad? You help Oberyn to traffic drugs, Walder's family kills people every day. We've all killed, we've all had people killed, threatened people. We're all dirty. No more than the next." 

"Nevertheless, the sex trafficking stops today," Ned said. "Release the women."

Tywin fell back into his chair, seemingly exhausted.

Walder grunted and looked at Ned, "What do you care if he traffics women?"

Ned squared his shoulders, "It's wrong. It shouldn't be allowed."

"Since when do you care about what's wrong?" Walder questioned. "Have you forgotten what this organization is about? We are criminals."

"I realize that, Walder."

"Is there good and bad crime? My people kill hundreds of people every day. You and Martell hand out drugs to people every day, and they always come back for more… until they don't. You take advantage of people." 

Ned sighed, "What's your point?"

"We're all crooked. We're all bad people." He sat up in his chair and waved one of his bony fingers at Ned. "You are a bad person. I just wanted to remind you of that."

"Thanks for that, Walder," Ned scoffed.

Tywin huffed out a heavy breath, "Fine. I'll let the women go. Is this meeting finally over?"

"I've drawn a line in the sand, Tywin. Get over it," Ned quipped.

Tywin smirked, "Go ahead. _Draw a line, with your worthless fucking hands._ It'll be washed away soon enough." He shot up from his chair and stormed out of the room.

Ned grunted, "This meeting is over."

Five minutes later, everyone had left the room except Ned, Jon, and Robb. Ned poured himself a drink, while Robb sat in Tywin's chair and Robb in Olenna's. 

"Remind me again while we can't just kill him?" Robb asked.

Ned picked up his glass of whiskey, taking a sip.

"Because" he started. "The killing of a man like that takes a lot of time. You can't just have someone pull up on him on the sidewalk. There has to be a vote." 

"Well, why don't we have a vote?" Jon asked like it was the obvious thing to do.

Ned sighed, "Because not everyone wants him dead," he replied. "The vote has to be unanimous. I wish it was as easy as you think it is."

"So what do we do?" Robb inquired.

"Nothing," Ned said, sipping his drink. "We can do nothing. I've done all I can, I am doing all I can. The only thing we can do is hope that he doesn't hate me as much as I think he does." 

Jon shrugged, "From what I saw he hates your guts, the glared he gave you sent shivers down my spine."

Robb half-laughed, "You shoulda seen when he looked at me, he looked like he'd thought out fifteen ways to kill me."

Ned downed the rest of his drink and put the glass on the table, "Alright guys, I'm going to try to relay everything I think the two of you should know." 

"Right now?" Robb asked like he had places to be.

Ned scoffed, "Yeah, right now."

Robb slumped down in his chair, "Well get on with it then."

Ned crossed his arms over his chest, "Yeah get comfortable, we're gonna be here a while."

"Robb and I wanted to go to the club tonight," Jon said.

"For fucks sakes," Ned pinched his brow. "Can you both just shut up and listen to me?"

"Yeah, fine," Robb replied.

"Sure," Jon echoed.

"Okay," Ned said. "The most important thing right now is to remember that from this point on I could die at any moment. If and when I do die, Tywin is the first person to interrogate. I don't care what he says, he had something to do with it. I don't know what he'll do, but I assume it will be soon."

"I've got a question, so what does he gain from killing you?" Jon asked. "He can't have The Block, cause it's Robb's once you're gone. What's the point?"

"Tywin hates me. Always has, and always will. I have similar feelings for him. What I did to him today will send him over the edge. He thinks killing me will make him feel better. He's always wanted me dead ever since I won the election years ago. And we weren't friends before that."

"So he just was to spite you?" Robb asked.

"Basically," Ned responded. "Anyways, before I really get into it. Do either of you have any specific questions?"

"Yeah, what's in the basement?" Robb responded quickly.

"What?" Ned said, shaking his head in confusion.

"The basement," Jon added. "When we got to the elevator to come up here, Robb noted the down arrow. When he asked Niko about it said to ask you about it."

"Ooh," Ned laughed. "Right, the basement. I don't really like to use that place. It's a place that people go when they've fucked up. Specifically, people who've fucked with the families."

Jon frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Well, let's say a group of guys jumped some of my people on a drug run… When I caught those guys, I could take them to the basement. There, I'd do whatever I wanted with them. Torture them, shoot them, beat them, bleed them, waterboard, whatever I feel necessary."

Robb grimaced, "Fuck, Dad."

"Like I said, I don't use that place."

"Why not?" Jon asked.

"Because the Starks have their own place, _The Smoke Shop._ I'm actually not sure why it's called that. It's a place at the docks, a warehouse. I bought it from Euron years ago. Now, I do use that place."

"Often?" Robb wanted to know.

"Yeah, I never do the stuff. But sometimes it needs to be done. Anything else you wanna ask?"

"Is Rhaegar alive?" Jon asked.

Ned seemed to freeze, caught off guard by the question. He began to sputter some incoherent words out.

"Dad?" Robb said, cocking his head to the side. Jon started to snap his fingers hoping Ned would come out of his trance. 

Suddenly, he spoke, "Why would you ask me that?"

Jon shrugged, "I'm curious. Plus, if anyone knows, it's you."

Ned shook his head, "Ask something else, I won't talk about him."

"What?"

"I won't talk about him," he repeated in a somewhat threatening tone.

"Ookay," Robb said with a chuckle. "Hit a nerve."

Suddenly, Ned seemed like a thought flashed through his brain. "Actually, I want to ask Jon a question," he said. "Jon, I'm surprised. You surprised me when I told Robb that I wanted him to be King, and not you. I figured you would've at least mentioned something to me about it."

Jon glanced at Robb like he wished he wasn't in the room. Robb looked like he'd zoned out.

"What kind of question is that?" Jon asked.

"One I want an answer too," Ned said bluntly.

"I-I don't… I don't know why I didn't say anything," Jon's voice started to get shaky.

"Do you want to know why I chose Robb?" 

At the sound of his name, Robb came back to his senses, "What?" he said, signaling he was paying attention again

Jon looked back to Robb for a second, then back to Ned. His face said that he was deciding whether or not he wanted to know why his father thought Robb was more qualified to be King that he was. Of course, Robb was older, and that's typically how these things work, the eldest child gets all the stuff. Jon understood that. But that didn't mean he wasn't curious. He knew that once Robb was King, he would handle a large portion the business. Simply because Robb didn't have the attention span to think about the same thing for too long. He knew that Robb would make rash decisions, probably a lot of those would cost him. It isn't that Jon is smarter than Robb, it's simply that fact that the momentous responsibility of being King of The Block seemed too much for Robb. 

Robb often thinks with his heart, not his head. He'd always do what he thought was right, it's that what he thought may not actually be the right thing to do. He's also a bit of a hot-head, he got into fights often as a child. Most of those fights he won, the problem is that he shouldn't have been fighting in the first place. He's quick to anger and can be easily offended. 

Jon would also want to do what he thought was right. The separation is how Jon know the difference between what his heart wants, and what is actually the right thing to do. Throughout his life so far, has been a thinker. In the sense that he out thinks people, calculates that extra step, go the extra mile. He's calm and collected.

Ned understood this as well. Jon was clearly the correct candidate for the next King. But, somehow Robb was going to be next.

Jon came to this conclusion his mind, but that doesn't bother him. He was never a leader, never wanted to be. He didn't mind that Robb was going to be King, even when he should be. Because he didn't want to be King. The prospect of having all that power didn't excite him.

Jon shrugged, "What if I do want to know?"

"Know what?" Robb inquired.

Ned seemed to ignore his oldest, he moved closer to Jon. "We both know it should be you," he told him.

Jon had an emotionless reaction because he already knew that, "Then why isn't it?"

"Because you don't want it, so your heart won't be in it," Ned had thought his decision through many times. "You've never wanted to be a leader, you'd rather follow. But leadership keeps following you."

Jon was team captain of the football team all four years of high school, quite the accomplishment. He played quarterback, he led his conference in passing, touchdowns, and completions all four years. He didn't want to be captain he was elected.

He was elected class president three times, he didn't even run. He's been known to take charge of situations, people follow him naturally, he leads naturally. Followers know a leader when they see one. 

"I've got a plan for you, Jon. You have no idea what's in store for you. I wish I could see it when it happens, how old are you? nineteen? Damn, I wish I could live to see you turn twenty-one." Ned smiled big and large, knowing all that he knew would happen in the coming years.

Jon going to say something but Robb cut him off, "What were you going to say about Viserys Targaryen back at the house?"

"Hmm? Oh…" Ned grumbled. "The airline business, I let him have it."

"Why is that a bad thing?" Robb said, beginning to pick at his nails.

"Because that boy doesn't deserve a damn thing, he's just so fucking entitled. Just because his father was King. He thinks he has rights to The Block. But he doesn't, the Targaryens had nothing to with the forming of this organization, they were even a late addition… I didn't want to let him have the airlines, but they were having issues financially so I let him have it. It probably wasn't even his idea _._ "

"Who's idea was it?" Jon inquired.

"I don't know, don't care really," Ned snorted. "The point is they are flourishing because of me, did I get a thank you? Of course not. That fucking airport is full of planes and people land and take off by the boatload every day. Now that I think of it, there is no way that was his idea, way too smart. Too much of a good idea for an idiot like that to have anything to do with it, even though he takes all the credit for the idea." Hearing Ned speak of Viserys told of what he really thought of him. 

"So, as King, you can decide whether or not people can take businesses?" Robb asked.

"Yes, if you recall Mormont asked me about cars today. I could've said no, I could've taken it for myself. I didn't because he and I have been friends for years… Speaking of Jeor, Robb, you should become well acquainted with him, he will be a fine ally amidst plenty of foes. That's a nice segway into allies and the people who sit at this very table."

"Jeor, Oberyn, Robert, and Olenna, are my closet associates," He continued. "Although I've grown to dislike Robert over the years, we were close friends once. But his boorish attitude to everyone and constant drunkenness is hard to stand. But he's still an ally. Oberyn, I sense is only an ally because I've made him a millionaire. He'll do anything to keep the money coming, and it's important you keep your bond with him strong. Drug dealing aside, he's a fine man. Olenna and I have been allies for years, we think alike. And as long as you don't step on her toes or disrespect her you'll stay in her company. Farest from me are obviously Tywin, then Walder, Roose, and Viserys. Euron isn't an enemy but he's quick to take sides. Roose isn't technically an ally but our hostilities have ended since Sansa is dating Ramsay. Euron though, I've heard he lies awake at night thinking about Tywin's daughter, Cersei. If an offer of marriage was brought up from Tywin he'd jump a the opportunity." 

Robb scoffed, "Doesn't Cersei fuck her brother?"

Ned smiled, "A rumor. I don't know of its validity. But if it is true, that'd a gut punch for Tywin. I've never thought to investigate, but that could be worth it."

"But doesn't she have kids?" Jon asked. 

Ned nodded, "Three. Joffrey, Tommen, and Marcella."

When Robert lost Lyanna, he settled for Cersei Lannister. They were married for five years before Cersei divorced him. They supposedly had three children together, but many wonder of their birth. All three lack the Baratheon hair, something that all Baratheon children have sported. Fingers were pointed at her brother, Jaime, as the real father. Any and all accusers were thwarted by Tywin, and even insinuating that Cersei's children could be bastards could get you shot. 

"Joffrey is a fucking brat. Tommen and Marcella are decent kids," said Ned. "But I've never really had much interaction with them."

"Well maybe we should look into the kid's legitimacy," Jon proposed. 

"I'll get my people on it," Ned relayed. "So, let's talk about the Lannisters for a moment. They are not to be trusted under any circumstances. Specifically, Tywin, Jaime, and Cersei, anything they tell you must be taken with a grain of salt. All they want is to kill, steal, and destroy."

"What about Tyrion?" Jon probed.

"The imp?" Ned shrugged. "Tywin could care less about him. If his name wasn't Lannister than he'd been left in the street. He spends his time drunk in brothels. But as far as I know, he is far removed from his siblings, morally at least." 

"He got anything to do with their business?" Robb asked.

"I think he wishes too," Ned replied. "But doesn't currently. But I don't think Tywin trusts him enough…" He sighed, "If you don't remember one thing about this conversation, remember this: I love you both, so much. And I hope I'm wrong, I hope Tywin's doesn't lust for the end of my life. But I'm confident he does. I do want to leave, I don't want to die…"

Robb smirked, "Does anyone want to die?"

"Yeah, actually," Jon laughed. "A lot of people."

Ned sighed, "Seven hells, is that all you gleaned from what I said?"

"I heard you, Pop," Robb said. "You know I loooovvee you."

"Goddamnit," said Ned, shaking his head. "There's more to tell, but I have to go." He walked to the door and opened it. "By the way, you cannot tell any of this to your siblings." 

"Don't they deserve to know?" Jon asked.

"No, not yet."

 **I PROMISE Dany comes next chapter. She would've been here now but since it took so long I figured I just needed to get something out.**


	4. You're Special

**Chapter 4: You're Special  
**

"It's loud as fuck in here," Jon said with a groan.

Robb took a gulp from a bottle of champagne, "Tends to happen in a club," he laughed. 

After the finished talking with their father they 'borrowed' Jory's car and headed to a nightclub. Specifically, a nightclub own by their family, it was called ' _Jewels Nightclub.'_ Ironic because a guy named Jules ran the place. Why call the place was called Jewels when his name is Jules? No one knows but him.

Robb took a couple minutes to call their friends. Sam, Grenn, Theon, and Pyp all got an invite.

The portly Sam decided he'd rather hang out with his girlfriend, Gily than come get drunk.

Pyp made up some half-assed excuse about some stuff he needed to do.

But Grenn and Theon wouldn't pass up an opportunity to party with the Robb and Jon.

Jon didn't particularly like Theon, Robb and he were close but Jon found him increasingly annoying. 

Theon didn't do much, he lives off his uncle's money. He's never had a job, never had to do anything particularly hard. Except for deciding which whore to take into his room with him. Often referring to as a belligerent asshole, constantly drunk and always looking for something to stick his dick in. 

Grenn was a good friend of both Robb and Jon. They played together on the high school basketball, football, baseball teams. Grenn was a gifted athlete. He had a bright future, possibly could've made big a professional baseball player. But one night, a Friday night game, he tore his ACL when he tried taking off after a hit. He never recovered. He tried to play again but he never got back to where he was. He lost all his scholarships, his grades weren't good enough to get into a college by themselves. So after he graduated, he had nothing to do. He tries not to show it, but his injury clearly haunts him to this day. He wears his high school varsity jacket every day, which is purple and white. 

Because Ned is their father, Robb and Jon got a section all to themselves. The largest section in the whole place. Which was currently flooded with women, that hung all over them. Much to Robb's enjoyment, two different broads sat on his lap and he was taking turns making out with them. Of course, every once and awhile he'd have to down a shot or two. Jules always made sure to send a waiter over to their section every couple minutes with alcohol. Their section was simply a rectangular couch, in the middle was a smaller table that two girls danced on. 

Theon is in a similar situation as Robb. A very attractive blonde, she must have noticed the tattoo on his neck, because she was all over him. Whores around town look out for any men sporting a neck tattoo from any of the ten families. Specifically, because they know they have money. 

Grenn sat next to Jon, happily enjoying his third beer.

Jon was particularly grumpy right now because it was Robb's night to get drunk. Whenever they both got drunk, bad things tend to happen. Like steal a cop car, or vandalize a street corner. Now, they take turns. It's better they look after each other anyway, and someone has to drive home. It was Jon's turn last time, therefore Robb could get drunk tonight. That didn't mean you couldn't drink at all, or get high. And Jon was tuned into his alcohol tolerance, he'd have to drink five or six beers before he became incoherent or intolerable. He was only on his second beer, which he was halfway through right now.

Robb, however, has had at least three shots, two beers, and half a bottle of champagne. Jon would have to cut him off soon if he didn't want to have to drag him out of here.

Their section was in the back left corner of the room. The stage was across the room, a DJ sat atop the elevated platform. The stage sported so many flashing lights that glancing it's direction for too long threatened temporary blindness. The huge dance floor was full of people. The song being played currently was a combination of dubstep and rap. 

Across the room from the dance floor, was glass double doors that led out unto a large terrace. Which overlooked the city landscape. The nightclub was located in the upper levels of the city, which provided a stunning look of the city from above.

Jon ran a hand through his hair, "This song fucking sucks too. Those fuckers are loving it though."

Robb scoffed, "Tell us how you really feel."

"He's not wrong, the song is fucking trash," Grenn laughed.

"So what've you been up to, bud?" Jon asked Grenn.

"You know me, nothing much." He shrugged. He motioned to Jon's neck, "But I see you've been into some shit."

Jon rubbed his left hand over the tattoo, "Sometimes, I forget about it. But then I look in the mirror and remember that I'm a part of a gang." 

Grenn smiled, "At least you've got something to do now. You know whenever people ask 'what's up?' Or 'what's going on?' You always say nothing much or nothing right now. But you didn't really have absolutely nothing going on." He sighed, "If you asked me right now, I'd tell you the same thing and I really would be telling the truth. For the first time in my life, I've totally got nothing going on. When Robb called I couldn't get into the car fast enough."

"Come on, man. We've always taken care of you. I don't know why this is any different."

Grenn is an orphan. His father dropped him off on the side of the street when he was only three years old. Luckily, Ned was nearby having lunch. He happened to glance across the street. He saw Grenn screaming and crying on the side of the street, plenty of people walking by and no one stopping to help the poor boy. Ned took it upon himself to take care of the boy. Paying for his education, food, clothes, and anything he needed. 

Grenn shook his head, "I don't think so."

"All we have to do is ask Dad. Besides, he's the closest thing you've ever had to a real father. You think he won't let you?" Jon argued.

"I don't know what he'll say," Grenn replied.

"But you want in, right?"

"Well… Yeah. What the fuck else I am gonna do?"

Jon laughed and grabbed Grenn's shoulder, "It'll be fine."

Grenn couldn't help but smile, "Yeah, I know."

The DJ changed the song to something more dissonant than the last song. Yet, the crowd on the dancefloor looked unfazed.

Jon returned his gaze to the stage, "Jules must be out of fucking mind hiring a DJ this bad."

Jon was about to go on about how this place sucked when something caught his attention. Well, someone.

"W-Who… Who the fuck is that?" Jon sputtered, choking on a sip a beer he just took.

Grenn frowned, "Who?" Trying to look in the same place as Jon.

Robb made no intentions to respond as he was preoccupied with a brunette gyrating on his lap. 

Jon stood up to get a better look, he wondered why he hadn't noticed her sooner. Now, that he was aware of her she stuck out like a sore thumb. She was the only thing he could see in the whole room.

Grenn stood as well, "Jon, who are you looking at?"

What stood out the most was her hair. Platinum blonde hair, almost silver, kept loose, that hung down to her lower back. It whipped around as she danced vigorously to the music. She wore a red dress that hugged her body in all the right places, which came down half way along her thigh. Pair with red lipstick, and red high heels, Jon could eat her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He felt himself begin to daydream a little, maybe drool a bit. He was fairly far from her it was hard to make her face, paired with the darkness of the room it was difficult. But he could tell she was gorgeous. Probably one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen, he planned on telling her as much. 

He had to talk to her.

First, he glanced back to Grenn.

"On the dancefloor, see that girl with the red dress on?" Jon pointed in the girl's direction.

Grenn squinted his eyes as if that would help him, "Uhh… Yeah! I see… Damn, she's beautiful."

"My sentiments exactly, I'm gonna go talk to her."

Grenn smiled ear to ear, "You're lucky you saw her first, or I'd be on my way now."

"Wow, you think she likes gingers?" Jon snorted.

Grenn gasped, sarcastically running his hands through his thick red beard. "You'd be surprised the amount girls like the red hair," he scoffed.

Jon raised his eyebrows, "Whatever. Watch out for Robb, no more drinks." He told his friend.

Grenn sat back down, "Yeah… I got it. But no promises if I lay my eyes on a beauty like that."

Jon smirked, "I won't blame you if you do."

Robb looked like he was going nowhere fast. As he and the girl on his lap were having a heated makeout session. But Jon still made sure the waiter wasn't going to bring any more alcohol. After that, he made his way to the dance floor. 

He tried to stand up a bit straighter, put on a smile. He felt confident. But as he reached the dance floor, she ducked out of the crowd and made a beeline for the terrace. 

Jon stopped dead in his tracks, he wondered if she saw him, sensed his intentions and wanted no parts of it. He was staring right at her the whole time he was walking towards the dancefloor. He subconsciously kicked himself.

But somehow undeterred, he still wanted to at least talk to her. If only for a moment.

He pushed his way through the glass doors, once through, he was immediately drawn to her.

She leaned against the stone railing, looking out at the breathtaking city landscape. You could literally see the whole city from up here, the docks, fleabottom, the red keep.

Jon wouldn't admit to admiring her from behind, as difficult as it was not to.

He slowly approached, trying to think of something cool to say. Robb was so much better at this kind of stuff than he was. Poor Jon was too proud to ask for tips as well. Although he's never really had troubles with women, his experience is lengthy. He's never really had a real girlfriend aside from a girl named Ygritte. Their relationship lasted six long months, during high school. They grew apart as she was forced to change schools because her foster parents could no longer pay for her education. Jon decided it was time to break things off after that, considering they wouldn't see each other much anyway. 

After Ygritte, Jon dived in headfirst into dating. Nothing serious, mostly just hanging out, going places, sometimes sex. He dated a bunch of girls with no intentions of really going steady. But he still didn't consider himself experienced, not like Robb.

He stopped a couple feet behind her, she hadn't noticed him yet.

All the possible first words to say all flooded his mind and he desperately didn't want to mess up. He knew how important first impressions are. 

He took a step forward, "Mind if I join you?" He put on a smile and tried to confident.

She turned to him slowly, she returned the smile.

Jon was taken back by her face, just so beautiful. Definitely, the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen and he'd seen his face share. Her eyes, amethyst. He felt like she immediately knew everything about him just by looking at him. Jon only knew one kind of person to have hair like that, and the eye color to boot. A Targaryen. He felt ashamed to even be in her presence. 

"I rarely mind company," she replied. Her voice, positively alluring.

He moved to stand next to her, "Beautiful night." He remarked.

She nodded, "It is."

They made eye contact, with her wearing heels they were just about the same height. Jon was still a bit taller.

"What's your name?" Jon inquired.

"Daenerys Stormborn," she responded warmly.

Jon liked the sound of her name, the way it rolled off the tongue. He'd probably catch himself saying her name to himself later.

"I'm Jon Snow," he said with the best smile he could muster.

"Hmm… Figures. I know who owns this place. I saw you and your crew in your section." She chuckled, "I know who you are. Well, I know of you."

Jon smiled, "Yes, well… I only know of three people that are still alive with eyes like yours, and the hair. You are clearly Daenerys Targaryen. Your brother is Viserys Targaryen, leader of your family. Your great-uncle is Aemon Targaryen."

"I could be impressed if that wasn't so easy for you to deduce," she laughed.

Jon reared his neck to the side to better reveal his neck tattoo. "Was it that hard for you to see who I am either? I'm sure you saw it when I walked up." 

"True. I did. But I didn't know who exactly you were. My first guess was you were your brother, Robb."

Jon pulled a pack up cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, "Want a smoke?" He offered her.

She shrugged, "Sure." She grabbed up out of the pack and put it in her mouth. Jon quickly got his lighter out to light hers. Then getting his own and lighting it.

She took a long puff, exhaling. "So, when'd you get the ink?"

"I've only been official for a couple days, it's still pretty fresh."

"You and your brother got in?" She asked.

He nodded, taking a puff. "Yeah, Pop told us he thought it was time we join in."

"Ooh… I see."

Jon frowned, "What?"

"Your dear old Dad wants to hang it up," she said matter-of-factly.

"Hmm," Jon smiled. "Yes, I suppose." He realizes that would be general perception.

"Ned Stark, King of the Block. The most powerful man in the whole city, maybe even the world. So which one of you is it? You?"

"What?... Oh, no. Not me."

"Your brother then," she smirked. "Interesting, is that because of you're a bastard?"

"I'm not sure really," he lied. "My father just chose Robb."

She looked at him intently, taking another puff of her cigarette before putting it out on the railing and then throwing it aside.

"Do you know who your mother is?" she inquired.

Jon scratched his beard, "No. I've asked about her but my father hasn't told me yet."

"Do you think he wants to keep her a secret from you?"

"I don't know. I hope not. I believe he'll tell me at some point."

Jon cleared his throat, "Anyways, I'm sure you've heard it thousand times but… You are by far the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

She looked back out to the skyline, "You're right. I have heard that a bunch of times. I'd hope you'd come up with something a tad bit better. But thank you."

Jon sucked down another puff of his own cigarette before putting it out.

"So, are you involved in your family's business at all?" He inquired.

She turned back to him, deciding whether or not she wanted to relay that kind of information to a guy she just met.

She shrugged, "Sometimes. Viserys doesn't like let me help most days."

"You don't have the ink anyway," Jon pointed out.

"Women don't have to get marked," she corrected.

"Right, but I've still plenty of women with a mark," He rebounded. "Do you want one?"

She shrugged, "Maybe, I don't know."

Jon bit his lip, "Was it your idea for your family to take the airline business?" He spit the words out so quickly he wished that she understood him. He didn't want to be wrong but he wanted to know if Viserys was as dumb as everyone says he is. 

She narrowed her gaze, analyzing him. She was silent for several moments.

"Why would you ask that?" She wanted to know.

"I've only had one interaction with your brother, actually, it wasn't even an interaction. More like an observation, I saw him at the meeting. And I spoke with my father about it. I think that idea was too smart for him to come up with on his own. I'm just curious if it was your idea."

"What if it was?" she asked, cocking her head to the side. 

He smiled and crossed his arms over her chest, "Well, then my assumptions would be correct."

"Which are?"

"You are both beautiful, and smart."

She smirked, "So, What is it that you want?"

He moved a little closer to her, which she noticed.

"What do I want?" He asked.

"That's what I asked," she said, plainly.

Jon smiled, "I'd say your number, maybe a date."

"You think you've made that of a good impression?"

He frowned, "Figured you'd be curious."

"About what?" She scoffed.

"If I'm any different than all the other assholes you've known. Isn't that what all girls want to find out? You wanna know if I'll just be another name you add to your list of mistakes."

She wondered how he was able to essentially read her mind.

"Look," Jon continued. " _You're Special_.I've never seen or met anyone like you before. Just from our basic interactions tonight, I'd bet a whole lotta money that I'll never regret talking to you. Whether or not you actually wanna go out with me."

Daenerys made no intentions to respond. But despite her past, she couldn't help the attraction. Just based on their conversation right now it was easy to tell he's clearly nothing like the last one. Plus, she was curious. 

Jon gritted his teeth, he almost wished he had an earpiece in with Robb talking in his ear. So he could tell him what to say. He felt like he was out of words to say.

"You're right," she started. "I am curious. You don't know what I've been through so you don't understand how cautious I am with this kind of stuff." She sighed, "I don't physically have a list of 'mistakes' but I'd be lying if I don't have a mental one." Her gaze wandered back out to the city.

"Gimme your phone," she commanded.

Jon couldn't dig his phone out of his pocket any faster. He held it out to her. Daenerys reached out for it, but she stopped as if thinking the whole thing over again in her mind. She closed her eyes, difficult memories flooding through her mind. She wasn't sure she wanted to get involved again. Her experiences left a metaphorical brand on her, she could never be rid of them. 

Her facial expression must have changed because Jon noticed something was clearly wrong.

"Daenerys, is something wrong?" He asked, cautiously. He didn't know what she was thinking about, but it was easy to see that it was pleasant for her.

She opened her eyes, refusing to let herself cry in front of a complete stranger. She swallowed hard and let out a shuddering breath.

Jon's mouth was left open, he'd never seen a woman hold back so many emotions at one time. 

"I'm fine," she said, finally. After a long silence, she took his phone.

Jon took a step back, shaking his head. He had to lean up against the railing unless he wanted to fall down.

She quickly put her number in his phone and handed it back to him.

Smiling brightly she said, "Call me sometime." Just like all the emotions she just felt were never real to her. However, she did briskly walk away from him and back inside. 

Daenerys continued her brisk pace to the restroom, where she proceeded to cry until her body wouldn't let her anymore. She could feel his breath, the smell of his scent, sense his full weight on top of her, the size of his large hands that gripped her wrists. 

She had anxiety attacks like this more often than she'd like to admit. Typically her best friend Missandei helps her through these episodes. But she was still on the dancefloor. It was all her idea anyway, to go out tonight. Daenerys would've been perfectly fine to sit on the couch and watch television. Now she really wished she'd stayed home.

The whole reason she left the dancefloor to go outside was because of some guy was getting too confident with her. 

So Jon was left outside to wonder about what exactly just happened with her. He couldn't imagine what must have happened to her, something so painful it had an immediate emotional reaction on her. Also, the way she was able to just push it down was mind-blowing, it was almost like a trained motion. Like she's done it a hundred times. 

All he wanted to do was give her a hug and tell her it was alright.


	5. Somebody Is

**Chapter 5: Somebody Is**

* * *

Sansa doesn't really like him, it's just the free constant highs she gets from hanging out with him. Sure he's an asshole, maybe he gets physical sometimes. At this point in their relationship, she is only in it for the drugs. Which she is unfortunately intensely hooked on. It's really his fault anyway, she met him at a diner one night.

She was happily enjoying some pancakes when he came over and sat down across from her. The first thing he said was, "Wanna get high?"

She looked up from her food and scowled. She replied, "What are you doing?"

Sansa had been high before. She and some of her friends smoked some weed during a sleepover. She liked it. But this was before drugs were super popular in the city. It wasn't fair to say that she was experienced when it came to drugs but she wasn't stupid, she knew what drugs were. What they were supposed to do you.

The guy grinned, "What, you don't wanna get high?"

"Why would I wanna get high?"

He snorted, "Who doesn't wanna get high?"

"Me. Now please go away. I wanna finish my food in peace," she stated. Motioning him away with her fork. She wasn't particularly interested with getting high as a kite with a random stranger.

He sat back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "You are the first girl to ever say no to me," he said.

She laughed, "You've done this before?"

"Of course I have," he scoffed. "It's the best way to pick up chicks."

"Why?... Cause you can't get them any other way?" She laughed.

He sat back up, "No… but I sense that I need to go at this a different way with you."

She looked at him like really looked at him. He had black long curly hair that went past his ears, it was shaggy like he hadn't showered in a while. His features are definitely on the uglier side, his face has blemishes, some ache. He looks rather repulsive. What he was wearing didn't help. A hoodie sweatpants combo never really boded well for anyone, especially if they were trying to woo someone.

"You've never been high before?" he asked.

"No, why would I have?"

"Because everyone is doing it, you don't want to be different do you?"

She bit her lip, "No."

"I bet all of your friends are doing it," he added. "I'll tell you what, just try it. If you don't like it, you don't have to do it ever again."

"I-I… I have to go," she said getting up quickly.

"What? Don't go," he stood up.

She ignored him and left.

Three days later, she went back to the same diner. She was a regular. The lady who ran the place knew her by name and knew what she wanted because she got the same thing every time. Two pancakes, bananas on top, with chocolate syrup.

She sat in the same place every time. Corner booth by the window, it was her booth because she and her father used to come here all the time. They'd always sit there, but he's too busy now.

She was enjoying her pancakes yet again when she felt another body plop down across from her.

She felt like she didn't even need to look up to know who it was.

"You didn't ask what my name was last time," the person said.

She put her silverware down and looked up; wasn't surprised to see the same guy from a couple days ago.

He smirked, "Hey again."

"Seven hells, what the hell are you doing back in front of me," she hissed. "I just want to eat my pancakes in peace."

"You never asked what my name was last time."

"What makes you think I want to know your name?"

"It's Ramsay, Ramsay Bolton."

She paused at the sound of his name, Bolton. He looks like a Bolton, the dark hair, and eyes. This time he did look like he'd showered. It appeared he had tried to comb his hair. He looked more presentable, he wore a gray button-up, with a nice pair of slacks.

"Bolton, yes. You look like a Bolton now that I think about it." She was also now able to clearly see sigil of his house on his neck.

The flayed man, she shivered at the thought of actually seeing a person in that state.

"I get that a lot," he sneered.

"So, Ramsay, you yet again interrupt my pancake eating. What's the deal?"

"I find it difficult not to at least try to talk to pretty girls whenever I see one," he smiled.

"You think flattery will get you anywhere?" she asked.

"Typically does," he shrugged.

"You might need to work a little harder than that."

He dug into his pocket and pulled out a blunt, putting it in his mouth.

She raised her eyebrows, looking around at the rest of the patrons of the diner.

"Are you really about to smoke that, right now?" she wanted to know.

"Well, yeah."

He retrieved his lighter from his other pocket and lit his blunt.

"Great, go ahead, it'll get you out of face sooner," she scoffed. "You're gonna get thrown out of here."

He half-laughed, "I think I'll be okay." Exhaling smoke in her direction, smiling as wide as he could.

She eyed the blunt, the fumes accosting her senses. She couldn't help but think how much she actually wanted a puff of it.

Suddenly, a large lumbering man walked up to their table. He wore a white shirt and an apron. Clearly, the cook and Sansa knew him to also run the place.

He directed his attention to Ramsay, who looked to be ignoring the larger man.

"Exactly, what the fuck do you think you are doing?" The cook asked.

Ramsay slowly turned his head to the man, "What's it look like?"

"You can't smoke in here."

"And why not?"

If you looked closely, you could see steam shooting out of the man's ears.

"It's not allowed in here, dammit," he nearly shouted.

"Are you going to stop me?"

"If you don't put the damn thing out; I mean to beat you senseless!"

The man's face was red with anger, fists clenched so tight his fingernails dug into his palms.

Ramsay looks unfazed, taking puff after puff of his blunt. But he got out of the booth and looked up at the much stronger man.

Ramsay arched his neck to the side to show off his mark, "You know what that is?"

The man looked to turn pale, he knew exactly what 'that' was. He knew if he laid a hand on this kid his family would probably find his body in a roadside ditch. Some men would pick him off the side the street, bind and gag him, beat the living shit out of him. Cut pieces of him off, carve him up like a turkey.

He didn't want that.

Without saying another word, he walked away quickly.

Ramsay returned his gaze to his prey. His icy glare sent shivers down Sansa's spine.

"So," Ramsay started. "I asked you this before," he paused to take another hit of his blunt.

"Wanna get high?"

* * *

Jon ran back into the main room, hoping to see Daenerys. But the large mass of people around didn't make it easy. He pursed his lips and put his hands on his hips. Before it was so easy to point her out but now there was no sight of her.

"At least I got her number," he said aloud to himself.

He went back to their section, where he found lonely and only Grenn sitting in the same spot he was when he left. He was just a little bit drunker now and Robb and Theon were noticeably gone.

Jon threw his hands into the air, exasperated, "Where the fuck did Robb go?"

Grenn shrugged and took a sip of a beer in his hand. "When he left with one of those girls, she was a brunette, I think... He said you would know where he is."

Jon sighed and flopped down next to Grenn. He scratched his forehead, "Yeah… I do. But did you even try to stop him?"

Grenn chuckled, "Nah… I just didn't feel like getting up. But at least I asked where he was going."

"What happened to Theon?"

"You think I give a flying fuck about Theon? I don't give a shit where he is."

Jon laughed, "Yeah… I don't even know why I asked about him."

Grenn snorted, "Fuck that guy."

The place Robb went to was a backroom with a bed. He and Jon were frequent users of this room. Jon knew he was there because the last time he saw him. He was with a girl. And if he left their section with a girl, there was only one place he could be.

Currently, Jon stood outside the door, ear pressed to it. If Robb was in there, then he had brought that girl in with him and Jon certainly didn't wanna walk in on them in the act. Something that has happened before between them and he didn't want it to happen again.

He didn't hear much, but he could clearly hear that there were people in there. It wasn't hard to distinguish Robb's voice, even through a thick oak door.

Jon had intending waiting until he thought it was safe to go in but his phone started ringing. Even through the loud pounding noise from the dance floor, the ringtone was heard inside.

Robb knew his brother's ringtone all too well, it wasn't one of those generic tones. Plus, if anyone was outside the door, it was absolutely Jon.

Jon slapped at his phone in his pocket as if that would make it stop ringing.

"Fuck," he cursed. He ripped his phone out his pocket and denied the call without even looking to see who it was.

The door swung open in front of him, and Robb stood in the doorway.

Jon could see behind him, a bed, with the brunette under the sheets.

"What's up, brother?" Robb said, slurring. Definitely still a little tipsy, He was buttoning up his white shirt, and he wore his slacks.

Jon smirked, "Nothing much, looks like you had fun."

"Yeah… Fucking-A-right I did." He glanced back to the girl, "What. A. Fox."

Jon laughed, "You even know her name?"

Robb scratched the back of his head, "Uhh… It starts… With an M, I think Margaery."

Jon sputtered, "Tyrell?"

"Is it?" Robb coughed.

Jon bit his tongue, as not to laugh. "Yeah, Robb, you know any other Margaery's? You just might have fucked up."

"Nah… I'll be fine," Robb shrugged.

"Seven hells, Robb. You think you can get out of everything?"

"Of course… I — I fucking do," he put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest. "You look— looking at the future King of The Block."

Jon couldn't help but smile, "That still doesn't make you bulletproof."

Robb made to respond but Margaery started to shuffle in the bed. He turned around to look at her, then back to Jon.

"Let's get the fuck outta here."

"You just gonna leave like that?" Jon spat.

"What the fuck you want me to do?" Robb gritted his teeth. "I don't want to wait around for her to start asking questions… at least not right now. I left my number with her, we can talk later. But right now, all I wanna do is go to sleep."

Jon was considerably less drunk, and it was his turn anyway, so he drove home. Robb's condition was getting somewhat better.

On the way, they talked.

"Soo… How'd it go with that girl?" Robb started.

Jon stiffened, "What girl?"

Robb frowned, "Save that shit, dude. I may have been fairly occupied but I heard you talking about her and I saw you leave out of the corner of my eye."

"Well," Jon sighed. "It was going well, I think. Until she basically ran away."

"She ran away?" Robb tried not to laugh.

"More like had to go. It's not like she had to get away from me or anything like that. She just… left." Jon gripped the steering wheel just a bit tighter.

Robb peered out the window, the city lights shining on his face.

"Any idea why?" He prodded.

Jon pursed his lips, "It was almost like… I don't know… something bad came back up in her mind. Maybe she had to… get away."

"What in seven hells does that mean?" Robb chuckled.

Jon slapped the steering wheel, "I don't know!" He raised his voice. "If I did... I would tell you. I've been thinking about it ever since it happened."

"Well, who is she? What's her name?"

Jon laughed sarcastically, "Well… she—"

"What? It can't be worse than me fucking a Tyrell princess by accident," Robb pointed out.

Jon sighed, "You'd be surprised. It's not like it's bad… more surprising. Than anything else."

"Well quit leaving me in suspense! Dammnit, what is it?"

Jon cleared his throat, "Well… I ran into a Targaryen."

The color drained from Robb's face, mouth wide open.

"What? A Targ?"

"Yep."

"Isn't there only like three of them left?"

Jon nodded, "Viserys, Aemon, and—"

"You met Daenerys Targaryen," Robb spat out in an exasperated tone.

"That I did," Jon replied.

"Wha— What was she like?" Robb asked.

"Oh, brother, you've got no idea. She's a complete knockout. A real traffic stopper."

Robb slapped his thigh and laughed, "Like stop at a green light?"

"She might be the most beautiful woman on the planet. And holy shit, dude, her eyes…"

"What?"

"The brightest shade of amethyst you've ever seen," Jon gushed. "I could get lost in those eyes."

"Kinda sounds you did," Robb added.

"If I said I didn't I'd be lying," Jon relented.

"Looks like we both had girl issues tonight," Robb sighed.

"What fucking issues did you have?" Jon scoffed. "You got laid."

"It'd be different if it was just some broad from across town, brother. In fact, it was the granddaughter of Olenna Tyrell. Just from the minimal interaction I've had with her, I'm scared if she finds out I had sex with Margaery someone will come in the night to cut my balls off."

"What makes you think old-lady Olenna won't care about you fucking her granddaughter?"

Robb looked back out the window, "Something tells me Pop won't like it either."

"You just need to talk her," Jon said. "See what she wants… what you want."

"What if I don't know what I want?" Robb questioned.

The car came to a red light, Jon slowed the car to a halt. He turned to Robb and put his hand on his shoulder. It started to rain, as it does often.

"You'll figure it out, you always do," he reassured his brother.

Robb smiled, "Thanks for the bode of confidence."

The light turned green, and the car lurched onward.

"So I haven't really had a chance to ask you yet," Jon started. "What do you actually feel about this King of The Block shit?"

Robb snorted, "What you mean?"

"Exactly what I said, what do you feel about it? Dad didn't really ask you what you wanted. Just kinda told you what was gonna happen," Jon stated.

Robb ran a hand through his hair, "I don't know… It's sort of what I always wanted, y'know? Just be like Dad… but this isn't the way I wanted it. All this heat on Dad and I, the potential threat to his life. I wanted him to grow old, grooming me as he aged. But instead, he tries to mold me at a faster pace than I wanted. It's kind of a lot to take in at one time."

"I bet," Jon agreed.

"It's almost like he wants to tell me everything he knows, and he feels like everytime he sees me, he has to impart some constant words of wisdom," Robb started to talk with his hands.

Jon snorted, "I noticed him trying to tell you something like that while you were pouring some cereal this morning."

"It's not like I don't want to listen, it's just that I literally had woke up ten minutes prior and my brain wasn't fully on yet," Robb confessed. "I've got no idea what he told me."

"Maybe you should tell him that," Jon said.

"If I get the chance—"

Jon looked at Robb, "What do you mean? 'If I get the chance.'" He cut in, with a harsh tone.

"Jon… I think this whole thing with Tywin Lannister is very real. I looked into his eyes, I saw the way he looked at Dad. If you think this is all gonna go away without nothing happening… I've got news for you."

Jon frowned, "You think Dad is going to die?"

Robb pinched the bridge of his nose and looked away. "I… I don't know what's going to happen. _Somebody is_. _Somebody_ is definitely going to die, I don't know who. But somebody is."

"You say somebody like it's just going to be one person," Jon pointed out. "I'd bet money that more than one person is going to die."

They didn't talk much for the next couple miles, but then something caught Jon's eye.

They came to another stoplight when they came to a stop. Jon's eyes started to wander.

"Wait for a second," Jon squinted his eyes to make sure he wasn't dreaming. "Is that Sansa?" He exclaimed.

She was about a block away but wasn't hard to see her with that bright red hair. She stood out front of a bar with some guy. None other than Ramsay Bolton, though Robb and Jon wouldn't necessarily recognize him.

Robb sat forward, "Yeah. That is."

Then it became clear that they were having some sort of argument, a heated one. Then Ramsay grabbed her and started to shake her, then he slapped her across the face.

"What the fuck?!" Jon yelled.

"Get the fuck over there!" Robb commanded

Even though the light wasn't green, Jon floored it. Luckily they made it through the intersection without getting T-boned. Although they came close and a bunch of horns was blown at them. Soon, the car came to a skidding stop in front of the bar. The rain didn't look like was going to stop any time soon, if anything it started to rain harder.

Jon got out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

"Exactly, what the fuck is going on here?" He yelled at them.

Ramsay turned to him, "Who the fuck are you?"

Sansa saw Jon and Robb moving to stand next to him.

"Jon? Robb? What are you two doing here?" She squealed.

Robb gritted his teeth, "We were just on our way home when we saw this what was going on over here."

Ramsay grinned, "Ooh, you talking about this?" He then pushed Sansa to the side, she fell to her knees.

Jon stepped forward, "That's exactly what we're talking about."

"What is it? Ramsay?" Robb asked. "I'd say you best fuck off before this gets ugly."

Jon glanced at Robb, who still probably had a lot of alcohol in his system. He wouldn't be that much help if this came to a fistfight. It wasn't that Jon couldn't handle himself, he could, it's just that it'd be a whole lot painless with his help.

"Ha! What the hell are you gonna do pretty boy?" Ramsay laughed. "I can do whatever I want with her, you ain't gonna stop me."

"You'd best, motherfuckering believe, we're gonna stop you," Jon threatened. He removed his suit coat, and tossed it on the hood of the car, rolling up his sleeves. Robb did the same.

"Guys, just stop, let's all walk away," Sansa pleaded.

"Oh, no, we're far from that," Robb told her.

Robb ran straight at Ramsay, he flung his fist at his face.

Which was ducked, then Ramsay uppercutted Robb in the chin. Who fell backward onto his back in a puddle.

"Goddamnit, Robb," Jon sighed. Putting his dukes up, Ramsay did the same.

They started to circle each other, "You're in over your head, boy," Ramsay quipped.

Jon responded by kicking Ramsay in the knee, which made him clutch it in pain. Jon took this opportunity to tackle him. He pressed his left arm hard on his throat as he began to bash his face with his elbow.

Ramsay took four elbows to the face before he was able to kick Jon off. He got to his feet, grasping his throat, coughing. He also now had a small gash on his forehead.

"That was a good move," he said, hoarsely. "I'll remember that."

"There's more where that came from," Jon said.

Robb was having trouble getting up, he tasted blood in his mouth.

Meanwhile, Jon threw another punch but it was blocked, he took a fist to the gut for his troubles. Ramsay followed this up with a left hook to the face, which sent Jon spiraling into the side of the car. Soon, a kick was incoming, Jon was able to sidestep it. But Ramsay's foot left a big dent on the car door.

Jon went for a quick left jab to the throat, which connected. Then he used his right to hit him on the side of his face.

Ramsay backtracked, trying to regain his senses.

Robb managed to get to his feet, but clearly still disoriented. Ramsay noticed this, and quickly ran over and close lined him.

Robb hit the ground, hard. The alcohol in his system and now a couple blows to head wasn't a good mix.

Ramsay rolled him over and hit another time in the face, "Stay down this time, you fuck!" He cocked back to hit Robb again but Jon was able to tackle him off.

Sansa went to Robb's side, "Robb, are you okay?" She was hesitant to touch him.

Robb groaned and covered his face, which now sported a bruise or two and a sideways nose.

Jon and Ramsay wrestled on the concrete, exchanging blows. Eventually, Jon was able to get him in a headlock, him on his back, he held Ramsay over top of him.

"Go to sleep," Jon told him.

Ramsay coughed, "F-Fuck… you!" He elbowed Jon in the ribs to get out of the hold. Which hurt, a lot, but didn't make Jon budge.

Ramsay ran out of air and passed out, Jon rolled him over on to the ground and rose to his feet. He put his hands on his knees so he could rest a second.

Sansa helped Robb to his feet.

Jon was breathing hard, "Let's get the fuck outta here… Before he wakes up."

"Holy shit, Jon," Robb said. "You really did a number on him."

"Get in the car," Jon walked past him. He grabbed both his and Robb's jacket and threw them in the car.

Sansa started to help Robb towards the car but he broke out of her grasp.

"Hold in a second," he said.

He walked over to Ramsay, standing over him.

"Robb! Come on," Jon beckoned. "Before someone notices."

Robb stood there a few more moments, then he stomped on Ramsay's face, and then spat on him.

"There, now you look like me," Robb fired.

He wasn't wrong, now Ramsay had a crooked nose. Now, he turned back to the car and took a step. But then he stopped, looking back to Ramsay.

Ramsay started to sputter and woke up.

Robb pointed a finger in his direction, "Hey, fuckface, you stay the fuck away from our sister. I don't wanna see you again, much less with her. If I find out you were even in earshot of her, you won't wake up next time."

Ramsay growled and rolled over onto his side.

Sansa came back over and pulled Robb into the car.

* * *

 **Sorry for the wait.**

 **I don't have an excuse.**


	6. With That, I Leave You

**Chapter 6: With That, I Leave You**

* * *

"Goddamnit, Sansa," Jon cursed. He was driving, just like before

"How could you get wrapped up with a guy like that, huh?" Robb gritted his teeth.

"How long has that fucker been putting his hands on you?" Jon asked.

Sansa just sat in the back seat with her head hung low. She didn't know what to say. There wasn't much to say.

"Sansa, why would you date a degenerate like that?"

"Sansa?"

"I don't know!" She finally answered. "I don't know. I. don't. know."

"How could you not know?" Jon inquired.

"I mean that guy is a real fucking asshole," Robb said. "I've just met the guy and I want to tear his heart out… That's never happened to me before, I've never wanted that before."

"Yeah… I really hope I never see him again," Jon bit his lip. "If I do... I don't know what I'll do."

"I'll kill him," Robb growled.

"No, you won't," Sansa said. "You don't have the guts to kill someone."

Robb looked back at her, "You'd best not bet on it."

"Sansa," Jon started. "I want to know how you met." He raised a finger, "I want to know how long he's been physical, and I want to know why you still hang around him."

Sansa took a deep breath, "We… We met in a diner."

"Which one?" Robb asked.

"The one Dad and I used to go to all the time, Dino's Diner. A couple of months ago. He came up to me when I was having some food. She just kinda hit it off."

"You hit it off?" Robb half-laughed, "I don't believe that for a second. If you hit it off with that guy, you've got some issues, dear sister."

"How do you know we didn't?"

"Nah… She gotta hanging around for a reason," Jon reasoned. He wasn't sure what yet, but he needed to find out. "What about how long has he been physical?"

Sansa rubbed her left arm, "I don't know."

Robb turned around, "How long, Sansa?"

"How long have you been dating?" Jon grilled, looking at her in the rearview mirror.

"Four or five months," she replied.

"Then I'd bet he was really nice the first month," Jon examined. "But he got shitty about two or three months in."

Robb pointed at her, "But she still hung around, why?"

Jon sensed Sansa wasn't going to confess to anything, so he'd have to figure it out.

"What kept you around, Sansa?" Robb continued.

"Drugs," Jon guessed.

Sansa stiffened, "What?"

Robb noticed, "Aah… He selling or something? You get handouts?"

Sansa scratched her arm, "I - I don't know what you're talking about."

Robb reached for her, "Gimme your arm." He demanded.

"No!" She shifted away.

"You on something, Sansa? You hooked? Addicted?" Jon raised his voice, angry.

"What have you been doing, Sansa?" Robb almost yelled. "Your hair looks like shit, you look like shit. Your face has got some wear and tear. You got some fucking bruises on your vein?!"

"Are you shooting up, Sansa? Goddamnit, why would you do that?" Jon groaned.

"I'm not!" She screamed.

"Prove it then!" Robb yelled back, "Show us your arm."

"No!"

"Don't make me come back there," Robb threatened.

"Stay away!" Sansa bellowed, getting as far from Robb as she could.

"Ooh, okay… I see. So, Ramsay deals with drugs. Or at least is in constant contact with them. You got horsed into the whole thing somehow, now you're hooked on whatever he's pushing," Jon finished.

"Sounds about right to me," Robb sighed. "I'd crawl back there to cement our suspicions, but what's the point? I already know it's true. You're a fucking drug addict, Sansa."

"I'm not!" She responded.

"Bullshit, don't even try it," said Robb. "There's no point. We know it's true. It's a wonder we've not discovered this sooner."

"We barely see her, that's the problem," Jon mentioned. "I guess she's been out with Ramsay all the time."

"Not anymore," Robb nodded.

"Don't tell Mom and Dad!" Sansa cried, basically confessing.

Robb and Jon just looked at each other.

"Why shouldn't we?" Jon scoffed.

"Sansa, let's be real here," Robb spoke. "You've fucked up here pretty bad, Jon and I didn't have to stop and help you—"

"Help me?!" Sansa exclaimed. "You think what you did helped me? You've just made things worse."

"How So?"

"For starters, beating up Ramsay just means he gonna take all that out on me the next time he sees me."

Jon snorted, "That's not gonna happen 'cause you're never gonna see him again."

"If you think I'm not gonna see him again… you're mistaken."

Robb punched the dash of the car, "You plan on going back to the piece of trash? I meant what I fucking said, Sansa. I'll kill that motherfucker."

Jon ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his face.

"Sansa," he said. "If you go back to him… after what just happened… I'll freak the fuck out."

"You guys must think I like getting beat on the fucking time," Sansa replied. "I don't. I won't go back… he just finds he way back to me."

"You are in an abusive relationship, for fucks sakes, stay away," Jon said it as if it was common sense.

"If you think we won't tell Pop about this you're out of your mind," Robb said. "Plus, you need help."

Sansa groaned, "I fuckin' know I need help."

"Then why haven't you reached out to us? Or Dad? Mom?" Robb basically screamed.

"I don't feel like I can talk to you guys, I can't confide in you," Sansa shrugged.

"And why the fuck not? I'm very approachable," Jon pointed out.

Sansa laughed, "What in seven hells should I say, Jon? 'Hey, Jon, I have a drug addiction, and my boyfriend beats the shit out of me.' Oh yeah… that'd work."

"At least that would get my attention," Jon supposed.

"Alright… Here's what we're gonna do," Robb sighed. "We're almost home. When we get there, go the fuck to your room, Sansa. If we run into Mom or Dad I'll do the talking. Tomorrow, Jon and I are supposed to have breakfast with Dad at some coffee place. Then, we'll smooth things with him. I hope word of our little tussle with Ramsay hasn't hit his ear yet. It'd be better if we explain it to him first. But there's no way we don't have to talk about it."

"And what if he asks about me?" Sansa asked, slowly.

"We'll have to tell him the truth," Jon decided. "He's gonna find out about it anyway. It's better if we just come out with it."

"But what will you _tell_ him about me? Why I was there," Sansa continued.

"Well… He'll assume you were there just because you hang out with Ramsay."

"Dammit, are you going to tell him about my drug problem?" Sansa finally asked, frustrated.

"He deserves to know, needs to know. He can get you help, Sansa," Robb relayed.

"I know that… But can't you let _me_ tell him? Later? It's not even important to the story," Sansa told them. "It's not your place to tell them those kinds of things about me."

"Maybe, but Ramsay hitting you is pretty damn important," Jon says.

"Kinda the whole reason we stopped," Robb added.

"I realize that," Sansa covered her face for a moment, flustered. "Just… Just let me break the news to him, okay. Don't fucking break his heart about me, I need to be the one to tell him. Just give me that, please? I'll get clean, break things off with Ramsay. I just need time."

* * *

"Funny how the smell of weed lingers, "Ned grumbled.

The overwhelming smell of coffee and weed assaults the senses. Typical of a trendy coffee shop in King's Landing, full of people talking and laughing.

Well, it would be full of people normally, but not when the King of the Block wants it empty.

Ned, Jon, and Robb sat around a table. The three of them wore black suits. The room was small, their table was near the middle of the room. In the back of the room was typically where the barista and his countertop. But now, he had retreated to the kitchen along with all the rest of the employees.

The door was glass, next to it was a huge window. Wall to wall, constantly viewing passerby on their way by the building.

"What'd the two of you get into last night?" The father asked as he sipped on his coffee.

Jon found himself staring at the black and white checkered floor. Robb cleared his throat, "Nothing really all that crazy—"

"Lemme stop you right there," Ned cut in, with a smile. "I know the two of you were at Jules place last night. And if you were there… like always, something happened. Plus, Robb's nose is crooked. It was clearly broken and you snapped it back in place. To go along with that both of your faces look like shit, you guys got into a fight last night."

Jon choked, "How did you grasp all of that?"

Robb rubbed his nose, "Yeah… I mean what do you think we're up to?"

Robb cleared his throat, remembering his Rendezvous with a certain brown haired Tyrell. He didn't wait around for her to wake up, although he did leave his number on a note with her. He did want to interact with her again, but the sudden realization that he'd bedded the granddaughter of one of the leaders of the ten families. It also just happened that said leader was an old, senile, angry woman. He wondered if Ned knew about his whole interaction with her.

"What exactly do you know? You know anything else?" Robb asked, shakily. Jon began to sip on his coffee.

Ned sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "Just tell me everything. I want to know what happened inside Jules' place, and how you two got into a fight. I know enough to know that some shit went down last night. So let's start here, either of you meet anyone at the club?"

Robb and Jon looked at each other, not sure who should talk first or even what to say. So, an uncomfortable silence came upon them.

Ned scoffed, "Just based upon the look you just gave each other… I know you boys meet someone."

Jon acted like he had something stuck in his throat, he drank some coffee so he could wash it down.

Robb just closed his eyes and looked away.

"What's wrong with the two of you? You act like I'm gonna get mad the two of you met some girls," Ned said.

"That's not the issue," Jon replied.

"Then what is?" Ned said back.

"Who we met," Robb sighed.

"Why does it matter who they are?"

"Fuck it," Robb finally said. "I hooked up with Margaery Tyrell last night."

"Ooh," Ned laughed. "I see… you think old Olenna gonna come after you for soiling her perfect granddaughter?"

"That's exactly what I think," Robb released.

"You'll be fine as long you don't piss her off. It's time Margaery found a match anyway."

Robb froze, "A match?" Jon started laughing out loud.

"Yeah, a match. This isn't the dark ages anymore, but matches are still a thing."

"Dad, I just met the girl. I've known her less than a day, you talking about marriage?"

Ned chuckled, "I'm just teasing, kid. You don't have to marry her. Unless… she gets pregnant. Then you will for sure, I'm always up for a shotgun marriage."

"What the fuck?" Robb nearly yelled.

Jon kept laughing, "You wrap it up, Robb?"

"Yes… Yeah…" Robb blurted out. But then it seemed like he needed to think about it for a second.

"I hope you did, all jokes aside if she's pregnant. You'll have to link up, there's no way Olenna would let her grandchild grow up…" Ned's voice trailed off and he glanced at Jon. Who's smile faded as he looked away.

"Fatherless, I was going to say fatherless."

"Sure," Jon said, still looking away, not convinced.

"Anyway," Ned continued. "But if not, In the future, it's a possibility, a smart move too. Marriage between the two of you would halt any and all hostilities between the Starks and the Tyrells."

Jon nudged Robb, "Yeah, bro."

"Really?" Robb asked.

"Yes, boy. She's beautiful, isn't she?"

"Well, yeah."

"I'd suggest going on a date with her."

Robb shrugged, "We'll see where it goes. But that's enough about me. Pop, why don't you ask Jon about his night?" He ended with a huge smile.

"Okay…" Ned narrows his gaze for a moment, "Jon, what happened with you last night." He took a sip of his coffee.

Rather than beat around the bush, Jon decided to come out and say it.

"I met Daenerys Targaryen last night," he said quickly.

Ned started audibly coughing and almost choked on his tiny sip of coffee. Had him pounding his chest with his right to try and recover.

Robb stood up, "Pop? You alright?"

Ned waved and gave a thumbs up.

"I'm fine," he managed to get out finally.

"Not quite the reaction I was expecting," Jon said, scratching the back of his neck.

When Ned heard her name, he wasn't sure what to say. He really wished he would've had a better reaction that he did. Because now Jon was tipped off that something may be wrong with him meeting up with Daenerys.

"You hooked up with her too?" Ned asked, subconsciously holding his breath. Silently praying to any God that would listen that he didn't.

"No… I didn't," Jon confessed.

Ned exhaled heavily, "Good… great."

When Ned sat down he didn't expect to hear that Jon had met up with Daenerys. Didn't want to ever hear that. She was his aunt, and he was her nephew. He knew it was possible that they could be drawn to each other.

"What kind of interaction you have with her though?" Ned had to ask.

Jon shrugged, "We talked for a while, I got her number."

"You like her?"

Jon's face was blank for a second, but then he nodded. "Yeah… I do. She's really pretty."

"So I've heard," Ned stated.

Robb laughed, "Jon absolutely gushed about her in the car."

Ned cocked did his head to the side, "Did he now?"

"Yeah, he said she was a real 'traffic stopper'," Robb added.

Jon elbowed Robb in the arm, "Shut the hell up." He ordered.

These comments worried Ned. Mostly because he knew Daenerys very attractive. He also could tell Jon liked her. He had thought this may happen eventually, but he never wanted it. They are related. He could stop it before it even starts if he wanted. Tell Jon the truth. He deserves to know.

But what if it works? What if they can work it out? Although, wouldn't be better to save Jon pain before their relationship blooms?

Ned looked away as his sons began to bicker amongst themselves.

He didn't know what to do.

Jon was going to pursue her, there really wasn't much Ned could do about that. Unless he wanted to unroot Jon's whole life by revealing his real identity to him.

A real conundrum.

Ned returned his eyes to the boys in front of him.

"What about the fight?" He asked.

"What?" They said at the same time.

"You heard me. Who'd the two of you get into a fight with?"

Robb and Jon hadn't rehearsed what they weren't going to say once they were eventually asked about the fight.

So they weren't sure what to say.

But before they could speak, Ned phone began to ring.

He stood up to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Roose, what is it?"

Ned looked at his boys, "Is that right?"

He looked back away, "Yeah… Yeah, sure, that's not a problem. Sorry about all this… I know. See you then. Alright, bye."

He sat back down with a huff, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cigar. It was lit seconds later.

"Dad—" Robb started.

"Save it," Ned cut him off. "You boys know what that call was about?"

They both nodded slowly.

"Okay… If there's anything you need to tell me, now's the time," He puffed on his cigar. "Lay it all out there, I know what Roose just told me. But I want to hear your side of the story."

"Can you tell us what you heard first?" Jon suggested. "That way you don't have to hear anything you already know."

Ned smiled, "Sure… Roose told me that the two of you came up on poor Ramsay and beat the shit or of him. His nose is broken, got a gash on his forehead and a bunch of bruises. He'll be alright but he took quite the beating."

"Is that all you know?" Jon hoped.

"I assume Sansa was there?"

Robb nodded, "Yeah.. she was."

"So, how'd the fight break out anyway?"

Jon swallowed, he started to speak slowly, "Umm… We… were on our way home, and we—-"

Impatient, Robb interrupted, "We saw Ramsay hit Sansa."

Ned's countenance visibly changed. He laughed nervously, "What? What do you mean he hit her? Like on the arm? Jokingly? Or did he hit her hard?"

Robb pursed his lips, "He shook her up, and then hit her in the face… Later, it became clear that he'd been rough on her for a while."

Ned frowned, closed his eyes and turned his face away. He didn't speak and seemingly had no intentions to.

"Dad—" Jon uttered but was silenced by Ned pounding his hand on the table. So hard that his coffee cup bounced onto the floor, sounding a loud crash. Coffee was all over the table and the floor.

Then a waitress appeared out of nowhere to wipe up the spilled coffee with a dish rag.

Ned stood up and walked away, towards the big window in the front of the room.

Jon looked at him, and then at Robb.

"I didn't think he'd take it this bad," he said.

"Yeah.. me either," Robb responses, keeping his eyes on Ned.

Ned began to pace back and forth, talking to himself. He felt at fault. He'd heard rumors Ramsay was a nasty fucker. It's common knowledge. Yet, he allowed Sansa to date him because it got the Starks peace with the Boltons.

He came back to sit down, still silent. By now the coffee had been cleaned up and the waitress retreated back to the kitchen.

"Are you mad at us?" Jon had to know.

" _There's no such thing as a free lunch,_ " Ned said, slowly, plainly. Ignoring Jon's question completely.

Robb raised an eyebrow, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means everyone, everybody, wants something from you. And you have to examine the opportunity cost of everything you do. You cannot get something for free, nothing is free. Not really. You can't something for nothing," Ned explained.

"Why did you tell us that?" Robb inquired, confused.

"Because it's important. Never forget that."

"Okay…" Robb said back as if it was a joke.

"With that, I leave you. I've suddenly got somewhere to be." Ned said, grimacing somewhat.

"I've done all I can," he continued. "All I could… But you boys will be alright. Take care of each other, and those deserving."

Jon sensed something strange was afoot, he stood up, "Why are you saying those things? Where are you going?" He wondered.

"I've been to invited to Roose's penthouse to hash out this whole ordeal," Ned confessed.

"Invited?" Robb questioned, with a furrowed brow.

"Whenever something like this happens, it's best to talk it out," Ned told them.

"Then why are you talking like we're never gonna see you again?" Jon asked, in a lower tone.

Ned smiled, "Don't worry about all that. You don't have to think like that. Though, I told you to be prepared for that kind of thing… Nevertheless, I'll always be with you."

"Geez, Dad, you got me worried now," Jon sighed.

Ned came over and patted him on the shoulder, still smiled, "I told you, don't worry about it. You worry too much. Now… I really do have to go. You boys go straight home—"

"What? I've got things to do," Robb cut in.

Ned shook his head, "No, Jory is going to take you boys home. I'll meet you there later."

"What are you talking about?" Robb argued.

"You heard me. Now, stopping arguing and do what I say," Ned commands.

* * *

Roose met him by the elevator, wearing a navy suit. He shook his hand.

"Ned," he greeted.

"Roose, how are you?" Ned returned.

"I've been better, honestly," Roose reaches over to press the button to call the elevator. "And this whole business with our sons isn't really helping."

"I agree."

Ned looked behind him as Niko drew closer. Niko drove him here and was the only man on Ned's payroll with him.

The audible ding of the elevator signaled that it had arrived at the floor.

When the doors opened, Roose motioned for Ned and Niko to enter first. After they had, Roose stepped in and pressed the button for the top floor.

Once the elevator started moving, Roose spoke, "I'm sorry it had to come to this, Ned. It should never have to come to this. Fighting amongst ourselves, and now it's spread to our children."

"Ramsay and Sansa together was the only thing that stopped us from fighting…" Ned replied, loud and clear. "But I think that's over now."

Roose smirked, "Yes… It is."

Another loud ding referred to the elevator arriving at the top floor.

"We'll talk in my study," Roose announced. "Follow me."

He took a right out of the elevator. Two Bolton men stood outside of the elevator doors. When Ned followed Roose down the hallway, the two men walked behind them.

Niko glanced back at them, he had a bad feeling.

He tapped Ned on the shoulder, "Boss, what exactly is going on? Why are we here?"

Ned gave a reassuring smile, "Roose and I need to have a talk. That's all."

Roose had a whole floor to himself. He led them throughout his luxurious penthouse. Beautiful views of the city, large TV's, kingly beds, everything a grizzled Bolton would need.

Eventually, they arrived at a wooden door with a silver handle.

"This is it," Roose said. "My study."

"Finally," Ned exhaled. He turned to Niko, "Wait outside."

Niko frowned, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Ned reassured.

"Best not waste time," Roose scorned. He opened the door and held it for Ned.

Ned cautiously entered, he looked around.

The room was dark, the only light was from a lamp on Roose desk. Aside from the light coming from a bay window that was behind the desk. The desk was straight across the room from Ned. A desk not much bigger than his own, stacked with folders and documents.

In front of the desk was two nice chairs.

Roose went to sit at his desk, "Please, sit."

Ned casually moved to take a seat.

"Want a drink?" Roose offered.

"Sure," Ned replied, crossing his legs.

Roose reaches to a drawer and retrieved a bottle of bourbon and two glasses.

"That fucker Robert sure is a crazy son-of-a-bitch, but he produces some fucking good bourbon," Roose remarked with a laugh. Popping open the bottle and pouring in each glass.

"That…" Ned reaches for his glass and takes a sip. "We can agree on."

"Yes, well…" Roose rolled his jaw a couple times. "Best not waste time, let's get down to business. You talk to your boys about this mess?"

"I did, you talk to Ramsay?"

Roose nodded, "That, I did."

"What did he tell you?"

Roose bit his lip, "Basically, he told me your boys came upon him on the street. He was with Sansa. A scuffle broke out, he said he 'smacked the shit outta that punk bitch Robb.' But apparently, Jon got the best of him."

Ned continues to sip on his drink, "I guess that sounds right."

"I thought so too," Roose agreed. His eyes wandered to something behind Ned for a few moments, then he returned his attention to back to Ned.

"But I learned Ramsay was beating on Sansa, that's how the fight started," Ned pointed out.

Roose leaned back in his chair, the chair creaked loud, like it was about to break in half.

"I'll be straight with you, Ned," Roose half-laughs. "I knew Ramsay was being rough on Sansa. In fact… I sort of encouraged it."

Ned's free hand gripped the arm of the chair so tight, he tried to tear through it.

Roose kept on, "I put him on that path. I told him to put his hands on her when she got out of line."

Ned couldn't put his anger into words.

"You see… I wanted this to happen. In a way, I wanted them separate. I hate not being able to act against you," Roose growled. He sat back up in his chair, resting his arms on the desk.

"I find you deplorable, Ned Stark. I hate you. I hate that you've been on top this long. Winners have to lose eventually. I'll admit, you are a winner. But it's time to lose. We Boltons and Starks have been fighting for centuries, and we'll be fighting for next six centuries, and so on."

Ned downed the rest of his drink, he restrained from the throwing the glass in Roose's face.

"I couldn't agree more," a cold voice sounded off behind Ned. Apparently, he'd been standing there a while now.

Ned knew the voice, he'd never forget it.

He didn't need to turn around to know _exactly_ who it was.

"Twyin Lannister," Ned greeted.

"The one and only," Tywin grumbled.

"What brings you here?" Ned wondered, still keeping his eyes forward.

Tywin walks over next to Ned, with a gun in his hand.

"You, I'm here for _you_."

* * *

 **I'm glad I was able to get this out a lot sooner than the last.**

 **Leave a review if you so desire. But it helps for sure.**


	7. Winter is Coming

**Chapter 7: Winter is Coming**

* * *

Slimy, calculating, cold, a few words that describe Petyr Baelish, also known as 'Littlefinger.' Much more commonly known nowadays, now that he headed a large percentage of the Stark drug business. People know him now, they know his name. He had power now, he was powerful. His name meant something, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Desperately.

He'd heard whispers, whispers of what was going on between the Starks and Lannisters. He knew it wasn't going to end well, for either side. Blood was going to be shed, and soon.

More than anything though, he wanted to keep his priorities in line. The first thing on that list, is his power, the power he has now. He mustn't lose it. He could only think of one thing he liked more than having power though. Well, more accurately, one _person_ he liked better.

Whichever side he had to choose, it didn't matter, just as long as he stayed in power.

It didn't matter who he had to betray, who he had to throw under the bus, who he had to kill.

The cost is irrelevant.

So, he made a deal.

"Arya, go back in there and try on the red one," Catelyn ordered.

The daughter stomped her foot, "I'm tired of this, I've tried on four already," she put her hands on her hips. "Why don't you get Sansa to do this kinda shit with you?"

Catelyn wanted to spend some time with her daughter, so why not go to the mall and try on some new clothes?

Arya stood in the middle of three mirrors, wearing a black dress that'd her mother had picked out for her. Which wouldn't be a problem with Arya liked wearing dresses, or if this wasn't the fourth dress she'd tried on.

"What is your problem?" her mother chided, "This is supposed to be fun." She sat in a chair, in front of the mirrors.

"Well," Arya scoffed. "It's not. Can't you tell?" She held her hands up, "Isn't it obvious?"

"Clearly it's not," Catelyn put her hand on her chest, "I'm having fun."

"You're the only fucking one," Arya groaned.

"Hey! Watch your mouth," Catelyn gasped.

Arya rolled her eyes, "I'm going to put my clothes back on."

She stormed off.

Catelyn stood up, "Arya! Come back!" Calling after her.

She considered going after her, but it seemed pointless. Even if she caught her, Arya wasn't in a talking mood right now. Catelyn sat back down and crossed her right leg over her left. When it seemed she wasn't coming back, she sat back down.

"Catelyn," her name was called out from behind her. She turned all the way around to see who it was, she could see a figure standing halfway behind a clothes rack. But she could make out who it was.

"Petyr?" Catelyn whispered, confused.

He stepped out, "You'll always remember me, won't you Catelyn?"

"How could I?" Catelyn responded. A kinder statement, one that would typically be followed with a smile. But when Catelyn uttered it, she had the same sour, cold countenance as before. Perhaps she'd never forgotten him, but not because he left a positive wake in her life.

She flashed back to her younger years. When Petyr would pine after her. But she merely regarded him as a little brother.

Petyr smiles, moves closer to Catelyn.

Catelyn lurched back, seemingly trying to avoid him.

"Why are you here?" She asked, really wishing he'd just go away already.

"Oh, Catelyn," Petyr started. "Everything is about to change."

Catelyn frowned, "What do you mean?"

"I mean it literally… Your whole life. Everything is beginning to change. Power is shifting… You're not safe, you need to come with me."

Catelyn scoffed, "My husband is the most powerful man in the city. Maybe the world."

Petyr tilts his head to the side, "Is he?"

"Of course he is."

"Not anymore."

"Did you not hear a goddamn word he just said?" Jon chased after Robb.

"Sure I heard him… You think this is the first time I've disobeyed him?"

As soon as Ned left, Robb started blabbering about how he wasn't going home. He wanted to go see Margaery.

They sat at the same table.

"I don't think you quite comprehended what he said," Jon remarked.

"I heard him."

"But I don't think you fully understood what he said, and how he said it," Jon tried to say, in a way that Robb would understand.

"Clearly, you weren't paying attention," he added.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Said Robb.

"Dad is in some kind of trouble."

"We've known that for a long time now, Jon. That's nothing new, never since that meeting at The Block, he's been in danger. You are overreacting. I'm going to see Margaery, there's nothing you can do about it."

Jon sighed, "I've never been able to stop you from doing anything. I know that. But… Just be careful. Take Jory with you."

Robb scoffed, "I don't need protecting. I can handle myself."

Jon laughed, "You already forget last night? Ramsay kicker your ass. It was me that had to save your ass."

Robb shook his head and stood up.

"I don't need saving," he said.

Then he stormed out the door.

Once outside, he noticed Jory sitting the car on the side of the street. Waiting for Robb and Jon to get in so he could take them home.

But instead of getting in, Robb took off to the left down the street.

Jon burst out from the coffee shop and looked around for Robb. To the right, didn't see him, back to left, he put eyes on that thick head of dark hair that could only be Robb's.

Instead of chasing after him, trying to talk him out of it. Something he knew was only a dubious affair. He told Jory to follow him.

Jon knocked on the window of the car. When the window was rolled down in response, he stuck his head in the car, "Hey, Robb's beginning a fucking idiot. Go after him, follow him."

Jory looked taken aback, "What?" Obviously confused.

"He's going to see Margaery," Jon told him. "I can't stop him and I'm worried something is going to happen."

Jory sighed, "Okay… what about you?"

"I'll find my way," Jon said.

* * *

Robb decided to meet Margaery in another coffee shop. Except for this time, there were considerably more people inside.

When he stepped through the door, she wasn't hard to miss. Also, she saw him enter and made eye contact.

He noticed she was already present. She'd been there a while, waiting.

She smiled, sort of in a way that would portray she was happy to see him. But not, ecstatic.

Robb wasn't sure what kind of face to put on. So it settled on a countenance that was only nonchalant.

He sauntered over to her table, trying not to draw too much attention to himself.

She stood, smiling, "Hi, Robb." Moving to embrace him.

Which Robb welcomes, but he didn't say anything. Just making it awkward. Not his intention, he just didn't know what to say.

They sat down, Margaery with a more hesitant smile this time.

Robb glances around as if everyone was looking at him. On his walk over here, he thought about what Jon had told him. It made sense, just not at the moment. That was all the only thing on his mind now.

Margaery raised her eyebrows, "Robb?" Noticing his clear distress.

Robb shook his head, "huh? What?" Snapping out of it.

"Is something wrong?" She prodded.

He licked his lips, "No… everything is fine."

She smirked, "Robb, I've only known you for a short period of time. And I can still tell something is up with you."

"Enough about me," Robb waved it off. "What's going on with you?" He pulled his chair closer to the table.

"Oh… We only met last night. I've done anything special since then."

Now Robb noticed what she was wearing, a black leather jacket, considering it was a somewhat cold day this morning, with a simple red dress underneath. He quickly glanced under the table to see she wore an elegant pair of heels. Her dark brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, to perfectly accent her beautiful face. Her face had makeup on it, not too much, not too little. Brought together by a simple pearl necklace around her neck.

Robb now remembered why he was so drawn to her. He could look at her all day. And he must have been staring because she had to snap her fingers several times to make him come back to reality.

He made a noise that sounded like someone abruptly waking up from a dream.

"What was that about?" She inquires with a laugh.

Robb shrugged, now paying attention, "Just admiring how beautiful you are."

Margaery blushes, "Oh… stop it."

"I could gush about you for hours on end," Robb confessed. "I also know what else I could do…" He sat forward. "To tell you how beautiful you are."

Marge chuckled, but tried to keep her composure, "What's that?"

Robb smirked, "I think you know exactly what I mean. We did it already."

Margaery gasped, slightly covering her face. "Oh my goodness… please do stop making me blush." She looked away.

Robb reaches across the table to lightly grasp her chin, turning her face back to him. Margaery tried to shy back away, but Robb kept her still. He smiled wide. Eventually, Margaery smiled back. They sat there a while, looking into each other's eyes.

"What if I like it?" Robb whispered to her.

Before she could respond he sat back down.

She brushed over her chin with her thumb, longing for his touch again.

"I think I just discovered a third way," Robb pointed out.

"You are…" Margaery found herself at a loss for words.

Robb raises his brow, waiting for an answer.

She giggled, "I'm just not sure what to say."

"Do I make you speechless?"

Margaery wanted to say no, but apparently, that would be a lie.

"You seemingly having to think about it, makes me think I'm right," Robb said, trying to look proud.

This had never happened to her before, no one ever made her speechless, especially not a boy. She really didn't know what to say.

Mouth left halfway open, but no words coming out.

"Okay…" Robb breathed.

"What… do you want?" Margaery was finally able to get out.

Robb's face contorted, "What's that supposed to mean?"

She lifted her palms of the table, then motions to him and then to herself.

"Out of this," she replied. "Us."

Robb nodded, "Ooh, right."

"We only just met and you already look like you'd take me right here and now—"

"You're not wrong," Robb playfully inserted.

Marge sighed in response, but a small smile crept onto her face.

"So what's it gonna be?" She asked.

Robb strokes his chin, "I'm not sure. I'm probably too cool for a girlfriend though."

She scoffed, "What?"

"Haven't you heard? I'll be King in a while here, Kings don't have girlfriends," he looked her in the eyes, "Kings have wives."

"Ha! You've got to be kidding," Margaery shook her head. "I'm not marrying a guy I met last night."

"I'm not saying get married tomorrow," Robb cleared out. "All I'm saying is… before we even go any further, that needs to be on your mind."

"Who are you to even say that? Drop that on me," she frowned. "The nerve."

"Margaery, listen," Robb swallowed nervously. "I know we just met, less than twenty-hours ago. But I really like you. That sounds weird but it's true. Gimme a chance."

She sighed, "I can't lie. You have my interest."

His whole face brightened and he opened his mouth to speak but she put her hand up to silence him.

"But," she continued. "Just based on interactions so far, I can tell that you're the kinda guy to bed a girl and move on. Onto the next, and the next, and the next, I won't be a medal on your chest. I'm different. I wasn't surprised to wake up and see you gone. But I was when you left your number, and even more when you wanted to meet today. I expected to never hear from you again."

Robb rolled his eyes, "Why would you think that? You don't know me."

"I know the kind of guy that fucks a girl literally less than an hour after they meet," she spat.

"Seven hells, you didn't have to fuck me," Robb snorted. "I know I had a good time."

It was now that Jory was able to slip inside the building, he located Robb quickly. He found an empty table near the door, so he would keep his eyes on him and who entered the establishment.

"I didn't say I didn't have a good time," Margaery explains, with a half smile. "But that's all it was supposed to be, all I thought it would be. I didn't expect this… You talking about marriage."

"Alright… alright, I see what you mean," Robb confessed. Looking around like he wanted to hide somewhere.

"I get it, I caught you off guard," he kept talking. "So what you do want out of this?"

"Not sure," she bit her lip.

"Can we both agree we want something?" Robb relented.

Margaery blinked twice, "Yes… yeah."

Robb smiles, "Great… at least that's something we can agree on."

Suddenly, four men with hoods and masks busted into the restaurant, all toting pistols. Their masks sort of looked like some type of goblin or a vile witch. Long ears and noses, green faced with pure white eyes.

"Everybody get the fuck on the ground, this is a robbery!" One of them yelled at the top of their lungs.

The room erupted into cries of fear, people shot up from their chairs only to fall back down onto the floor.

Margaery could only whale loudly as she saw them.

Without turning around, Robb spoke, "Holy shit, this is bad."

He got to floor quickly and made sure that the robbers didn't see his face.

Margaery just kept screaming, so he reached over tugged on her ankle.

"Get down before they hit you!" Robb told her.

Hearing that, Marge went to the floor.

One of the hooded men went over the to counter, carrying a bag. He waved his gun in the employee's face, yelling about putting all the money in the bag.

Two of them were on crowd control, making sure everyone in the room was on the floor. Pointing their guns at the customers threateningly. But they also seemed to be looking for something.

The last man was walking around to every person with another bag, demanding money and valuables.

Jory happened to one of the last people to get down, but he kept his eyes on Robb. He started to crawl toward him when the robbers weren't looking. Keeping a hand on his gun always.

The goblin looking for valuables was making his way to Margaery.

He kicked her leg, "Gimme your money, bitch!"

She didn't know what to do other than cover her head and whimper.

"Come on lady! This doesn't have to get rough."

One of the other goblins ran over and pulled her up by her hair.

She screamed in pain, tears pooling in her eyes.

"I-I don't have any money!" She exclaimed.

Robb could only watch for so long, he stood up.

"Stop!" He pleaded.

All the goblins set their eyes on him, the one with the bag cocked his head to the side.

"Here," Robb reaches into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, he dropped it on the table.

"Just take that and leave her alone… please," Robb sighed.

The goblin holding Marge dropped her back to the floor, then he grabbed Robb's wallet and threw it in the bag. But he never looked away from Robb.

He stepped closer to him, looking him up and down.

The goblin who was at the counter, ran over to the door yelling, "Come on! I've got the money. Let's go before the cops show up!"

"Wait!" The one in front of Robb said. This one must be the leader.

"Why?" One of the others said, "we've got plenty."

"Not enough, not yet," the leader continued. "You know who this is?"

All of the goblins shook their heads.

The leader grabbed Robb and slammed him against the table, and holding him there. He then further exposed his neck tattoo.

"This kid here has got to be one we were told about."

"Really?" The one with the bag came over.

"Yeah, he is."

The leader pulled Robb up and pointed his gun at him.

Jory got up quickly and shot the man by the door in the head first. His blood and brains splattered against the wall.

Then he turned to the leader and fired, he hit him in the back.

But the leader still pulled his trigger, Robb took a bullet and fell into a table behind him, crashing to the floor.

The last two goblins and Jory started shooting at each other.

Jory killed the one with the bag but he got hit at least twice. He could only fall on his back.

The wanton gunfire killed three of the innocent people.

The unscathed goblin grabbed both bags and ran out as fast as he could.

* * *

"So that's how it's gotta be huh?" Ned laughed.

Tywin smirked, "I'm afraid so."

Much to Roose and Tywin's surprise, Ned smiled wide.

Roose stood up, "Is there something funny here?"

"Why yes, there is," said Ned. "What'd you expect? I've known this would happen eventually. It's just funny that Roose doesn't have the balls to shoot me himself. So he's gotta bring in Tywin to do it."

Roose pounded his fist on his desk, "Who do you think you are?"

"My name is Eddard Stark, King of The Block, who are you two? But two worthless cowards, whose only idea to get rid of their enemy is to kill them. Whereas with me, I'd simply strip you of everything you love, lock you in a room and throw away the key."

"I'm not sure if I'll leave this room alive," he kept on. "It's true. But I'm not afraid. So if you expect me to cower in fear, it's not gonna happen."

Tywin chuckled, leaning on the desk, "Well… let me tell you something here." He glanced at the expensive watch on his wrist. "As of… maybe twenty minutes ago, four men robbed a restaurant that your son, Robb was."

Ned's eyes widened, and he gripped on the arms of his chair ever so tightly.

"Of course I told them to," Tywin smiled like a Cheshire cat. "I'd learned earlier that day that Robb was going to be there with that Tyrell girl. You really can't blame me, you'd do the same if you were in my position. What's the point of killing you if your son takes your place? I don't gain any ground then, your son is just… _you._ But much younger and more… annoying. I couldn't let it stand."

Roose agreed, "You giving Robb, The Block, was the biggest mistake you ever made. You made us have to take him too."

"Don't worry though, just you, and Robb," Tywin swore. "No harm will come to the rest of your family, as long as they cooperate."

"This was always going to be a natural conclusion," Roose added.

"Face it, Ned, it's over. Your reign has come to an end," Tywin spat, stepping backward.

Ned looked to his feet for a few seconds, "Yeah… my reign is over. You're right." Then he looked up, to see Tywin pointing his gun at him.

Ned rose from his chair, "It's not me you should be worrying about, Tywin." Pointing at him, "You underestimate us, Starks." He took a step closer to Tywin, unafraid. "

Tywin gritted his teeth, "Any last words?"

" _Winter is coming_. For you, Roose, and all who stand with you," Ned stated clearly and calmly.

Without a second thought, Tywin fired.


	8. Some People Never Die

**Chapter 8: Some People Never Die**

* * *

"That's it, Jon. You are doing great. Just take a deep breath," Ned whispered in his son's ear.

Jon, but the age of eight, sat in his father's lap. In a tree stand, overlooking a buck three times the size of Jon.

Ned decided to take his son on a hunting trip up north. Just him, Jon, and the wilderness. Of course, this only enraged his wife, asking why he wouldn't bring true born son instead. But he knew Robb cared little for such things as hunting. Jon, however, would do anything he, could with Ned.

The shotgun was being held by Ned because eight-year-old Jon couldn't hold it up. But he rested his finger on the trigger, while Ned got the aim right.

"Alright Jon, whenever you are ready, squeeze the trigger," Ned said.

Jon got ready to but then he thought, "Do I have to?"

Ned frowned, "What?"

"Do I have to?" He repeats.

Ned wasn't sure what to say.

"Umm…" His mouth left open.

"Won't it die if I do?" Jon asked, looking back to Ned.

"Well, Yes. It would."

Then Jon eyes looked to fill with tears, "I don't want to…" He whined.

"Oh, Jon. It's okay. Don't cry," Ned tried to calm him.

Tears down the cheeks now, "I don't want it to die. I don't want to."

"There's no need to cry, my boy," Ned cooed. Wiping some of his tears away.

Jon sniffled, "Okay."

"Listen here son, death is apart of life," says Ned. He pointed to the deer, "That animal can be food for us. It doesn't have to be, and you don't have to shoot it. But either way, someone else will or it dies of more natural causes. You see, everything and everyone was their appointed time to die."

"Everything?" Jon wonders.

"Yes, child. Everything has an end. It's just the way the world works."

"What about you? Will you die?" Jon asks.

Taken off guard, Ned shook his head. Feeling like he suddenly stepped into a minefield. He should choose his next words carefully unless he wanted Jon to erupt into tears. But how could he lie?

"Uh… eventually. Yes, I will," Ned stated, very slowly.

Jon started to cry again, "No! You can't."

"Jon, dear boy, this is not something you need to worry about now," he said. Pulling his son in close for a hug. Trying to calm him.

Ned didn't expect to have to give Jon a life lesson on this trip.

He held onto to Jon by his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "Jon, you don't need to worry about me going anywhere, for a very, very long time. Okay? I'm not going to leave you," he finished with a smile.

Jon rubs his eyes, then smiles, "O-okay."

"Y'know Jon, _some people... never die_ ," Ned spoke.

"What?" The eight-year-old gasps.

Ned scratches the back of his neck, "Firstly, I don't mean it literally... everyone dies, death is the only thing in this world that cannot be avoided. But, hopefully by the time I leave this place. I will have impressed my ideas and mindset upon you that whenever someone sees you, they'll see me too." He put his hand on Jon's chest, "A long time from now, people will see me in you. You'll remind them of me. I will live on, in you, with you. I'll always be there, you might not see me, but I'll be standing right next to you."

Jon giggles, "Promise?" He held up his pinky finger.

His father quickly wrapped his own pinky around his, grinning ear to ear.

"I promise."

* * *

After watching Jory pull away in his car, he merely wandered the streets.

Just lost in thought, he worried about Ned and Robb. He feared something horrific was about to happen.

He didn't really have any idea who Roose Bolton was. Or Tywin Lannister. Other than by reputation. Hoping that they weren't planning to do something terrible. He'd feel horrible if his wrestle with Ramsay would have negative long-standing effects on his family.

But something told him he wouldn't get his wish.

His fears were only confirmed after he got a call from Sansa, she told him Robb had been shot. They didn't know if he was alive or dead, but they did know he had been taken to a hospital.

Things made worse because they couldn't get in contact with Ned.

Everyone was going to see Robb.

Jon got a cab and made it there first. He all but yelled at the woman at the counter.

"Robb Stark. Where is his room?!" Slamming his hands in front of her.

She yelped and rolled back in her chair.

"Excuse me?" She retorted.

Jon sighed, "I'm sorry. I'm looking for my brother, okay? He was shot. I was told he was taken here." He pointed to the ground. "Where is he?"

She didn't respond, just looked to the computer in front of her. Moving her mouse around, clicking.

Jon looked around behind him. Nurses and doctors walking around, some crying citizens, one person was pushed on a gurney covered in blood.

His heart started to beat faster, a horrible feeling coming on.

Turning back to the woman, "Well?"

Without looking at him, "Second floor, room 102."

Jon took off without really knowing where that was. But he knew it was on the next floor for up so he quickly climbed some stairs.

The second floor looked identical to the floor below it. Just fewer people.

He trudged down the hallway, examining each room on either side of the walls. At first, he didn't see room 102, speeding up his pace, wondering if out of spite the nurse told him the wrong room.

Or if Robb was here at all.

Eventually, he found his brothers room. He peered through the thin glass pane within the thick oak door.

Robb lay in a hospital bed, seemingly unconscious.

Jon pushes his way into the room, moving slowly.

When his entrance wasn't met with the opening of eyes, He sighed heavily. He fell into a chair bedside.

He wondered if he should try to wake Robb, but then he figured that was probably a bad idea. Based upon the fact that Robb was hooked up to a ventilator. Which meant he must be in some form of a comatose state.

He couldn't breathe on his own.

He lay in a propped up position, arms at his side. Wearing the traditional hospital attire, the covers came up to his chest. Hair utterly disheveled, not uncommon for the Young Wolf but now it left a sour taste in Jon's mouth.

He felt like he could have prevented this.

He sat back in the car and covered his face with his hands.

"Goddamnit," he muttered to himself. Feeling like he'd kicking himself over this for years to come.

Regaining his composure, he pulled out his phone and texted Sansa to tell her where Robb was.

The Jon examines the room around him, it was drab. The paint on the walls was sand colored, crown-molding a paler white. Attached to the wall in front of the bed was flat-screen TV. It was on but muted, the channel was the local news. Breaking news about the shooting at the place where Robb was. The door to the bathroom was also on the wall with the TV.

Adjacent to the bed was a window with the curtains drawn.

Jon looked back to news, six dead, four wounded, headshots of the people killed came on the screen.

He didn't recognize any of the faces, just innocent bystanders.

Suddenly, he remembered Jory. Slapping his forehead, he mentally inquired about what must have happened to him.

He hadn't died or his picture would've been on the screen.

He must have been one of the injured, Jon realizes. Which meant he might still be alive. The thought calmed Jon slightly. This all might have been avoided had Jon been more firm with Robb. He wasn't sure if he could have actually stopped him from leaving, but maybe he should have tried harder.

He wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. Lightly punching himself on his temple.

Robb was seriously injured or worse after this. He'd never forgive himself.

Jon felt the presence of someone else entering the room, looking over he saw a doctor with a confused look on his face.

"Excuse me? Who are you?" the doctor asked.

Jon scratched the back of his neck, "I'm his brother."

"Ah... " The doctor walked next to the bed. "I see."

The doctor was balding, wearing the classic doctor like clothing.

"How is he?"

"Well, the bullet missed his aorta by about three or so inches. Lucky to be alive. Unfortunately, he still experienced quick a bit of trauma. He had no pulse when the paramedics arrived at the scene, but they were able to revive him. When he got here, we were relieved to discover the bullet had gone all the way through. If we would've had to dig it out…" He winced. "It would've been ugly."

"Why isn't he wake?"

"I assume when he was shot. He was standing. When the bullet impacted him… of course he fell. But he hit his head pretty damn hard, perhaps on a nearby table specifically the corner of one or…" He smacked his fists together, "Maybe just a hard collision with the floor. But he had quite the brain injury. However, the brain didn't swell up. So he's necessary comatose, just experiencing a prolonged unconsciousness. Think of it like he's sleeping for a while so his body can recover, that's all it is. Really just a bad concussion, plus a bullet. But through all that, he should be fine. He should wake up soon, he'll need a lot of rest."

Jon bit his lip, "Okay, thanks doc. What's your name?"

"Archmaester Ebrose," He smiled.

"Archmaester?"

"That is correct."

"Shouldn't you be at the Citadel?"

He grumbled, "I've spent enough time there, boy." Without saying thing else, he walked out of the room.

* * *

Jon must have dozed off because he was woken up by a soft push on his arm. Waking with a fright, breathing heavy he rubbed his eyes. Once he could see he saw Sansa, Arya, and Catelyn standing in front of him, all now moving away from him.

"Huh?" Jon said, sleepily.

Arya came back over punched his shoulder, saying, "Wake up, Jon!"

Jon jumped, "Ah, okay… I'm good." Slapping his face, in an attempt to further wake himself up.

Catelyn moved closer to Robb, taking his hand. Eyes only on him.

"What… happened?" she seethed.

Jon sighed, "He was in a restaurant with Margaery Tyrell-"

Sansa gasped, "Marg?"

"Well… you must be acquainted," Arya snorted.

"She's my friend," Sansa defended, "Why was she with Robb?" Starting to sound frantic.

"I don't know," Jon said. "All I know is they were both there, and suddenly some dudes showed up with guns. Robb was shot. I don't know all the specifics or reasons yet… But I will."

Jon got up and walked over to look out the window. Resting his forehead against the glass, closing his eyes.

"Was he targeted?" Arya suggested. "Were they there for him?"

"It's possible," Jon said, flatly.

"But why would they be after him?" Sansa wondered.

Jon scoffed, "I can think of a few reasons."

Obviously, him being the named heir to Ned could be a clear reason. Any number of people could be after him for that. Or maybe just to hurt their family.

"It has to the be the Lannisters," Arya pointed out. "He has to be them!" She stomped her foot out of sheer anger.

"Who else?" Catelyn whispered, still watching over her firstborn.

Arya walked over next to Jon, "Have you heard from Dad?"

He turned to her, "No… I was hoping you guys would've."

Sansa shrugged, "We haven't."

Jon cursed under his breath, "That's not good, last I heard from him he was going to Roose Bolton's penthouse. I've tried calling, but no answer."

Catelyn stepped away and covered her face, shuddering. She feared the worst. Emotions started to swell up, but she was prepared for this moment.

"We need to leave... We have to go home," she said finally.

"What?" Arya yelped.

"We can't leave Robb." Sansa nearly exclaimed

"You girls don't understand, we aren't safe here," Catelyn groaned. "We will be safe at home."

Starting towards the door, grabbing both Arya and Sansa's wrists as she went. Which quickly turned into a match of tug-a-war. Sansa gripped Robb's bed, Arya, just trying to pull against her mother. Jon helplessly watched, he simply didn't have the strength to intervene. So much was going on in his head he felt like it was going to explode. Crossing his arms over his chest, and shook his head.

"Mother! We can't leave!" Sansa hollered. Flat out confused as to why her mother would want to leave her son. She wasn't sure what kind of emotions to feel, and her mom doing this wasn't helping.

"Damnit, Mom! Why are you doing this?" Arya groaned. Just feeling angry in every sense of the word. Angry because her brother got shot, and even more angry because her mother wanted to leave him in his hospital bed. Without even knowing whether or not he'd even wake up.

The girls fought their mother off, they all backed up.

Catelyn sighed heavily, and hung her head for a moment or so.

"You girls don't understand," she started. "Your brother has been shot, your father…" She let out a shaky breath, "I don't know… He could be in danger, maybe even hurt… or worse. We aren't safe here. We can be protected back at home. Someone is coming after us."

"What about Robb?" Arya blinked, trying to breathe evenly. "Is he not safe here?"

"I can make a call," Jon sounded off. "Have some guys come to watch over him, besides, I'm not going anywhere."

"Then I'm staying," Arya said, sounding defiant.

"No," Jon shook his head. "Go with your mother, she's right."

"Then if we're not safe, you can't stay here," Arya said back quickly.

"You have to go. I can't because this is my fault. _I_ let Robb leave, I could've… I could've stopped him. But I didn't," Jon brushed his face with his hands, feeling like he was always out of breath. "I'll stay. I have to. I must."

"That's fine," Catelyn gathered herself. "He's a grown man. He can do what he wants. Come on, girls lets go." She stepped out the door and beckoned to them.

Jon motioned to her, "Go. Now. Leave, please."

Arya came wrapped her arms around Jon, then followed by Sansa. Jon was surprised, but gave in and hugged them back. Nestling his head between theirs. A tender moment amongst utter chaos.

Without saying anything else, the three of them left.

Jon stumbled back into his chair, letting his head hang back on the back of it. He hoped no one came to attack Robb because he wasn't sure he had the physical strength to fight them off.

He needed help.

Pulling out his phone, knowing just who to call.

He picked up on the first ring.

"Grenn… yeah, it's me. I need some help. I'm sure you heard about Robb… yeah. I'm at the hospital, room 102... Yeah, it's just me here, I don't know if anybody is going to come and finish the job. You gotta come here now, just in case… Good, and Grenn… bring your bat."

Then he hung up.

* * *

It only felt like a few minutes before Grenn nearly kicked in the door. Making Jon jump out of his chair with his fists up ready for a fight.

"Seven hells, Grenn," Jon said, realizing it was his friend.

Grenn grinned about as wide as he could, "Wassup buddy?"

Jon was then even more startled by seeing not only Samwell Tarly enter the room, but also Pyp.

Before Jon could open his mouth, Sam pulled him into a huge bear hug, lifting him the ground.

"Jon!" Sam squealed.

The hug was so tight Jon's face started to turn red, and breathing became difficult. He shook out of the hug, fearing he might pass out. Putting his hands on his knees, he tried to suck enough air back in his lungs as possible.

"W-what… are you guys… doing here?" Jon exhaled heavy.

Pyp smiled, "Grenn called us after you called him."

"We're here to help," Sam clapped his hands.

Thankful for the thought, but Jon wasn't sure how well Sam and Pyp could fight off seasoned killers from murdering his brother. He knew Grenn could hold his own, that's why he called him. It's not that he wasn't excited to see his dear friends, but now he's afraid they were drawing too much attention to themselves.

"Look, guys, this great and all, but if just two guys show up with guns," Jon sighed. "We're toast."

"Huh?" Sam suddenly went white in the face, "Guns? Who? What?"

"What are you talking about?" Pyp laughed like it was a joke.

"Goddamnit guys, Robb is in danger. People tried to kill him earlier today, it's reasonable to think once they find out he's still alive they will come back to finish the job," Jon put his hands on his hips. "I called Grenn in case that happens."

Pyp slapped Grenn on the back of his neck, "Why didn't you tell us that? I thought Jon just needed some support after his brother was in a freak accident."

"That's at least how you made it out to be," Sam pouted. "I didn't know people actually wanted to kill Robb."

Grenn rubbed his now reddened neck, and smirked, "I thought you guys coulda put two and two together."

"Well none of that matters now," said Jon. "You're here. You can help. Sam, go back downstairs and keep a lookout for anyone suspicious. Anyone in black suits, look out for people with Lannister or Bolton sigils on necks and clothing. If you see anything, send me a text."

Sam looked confused for a moment, before nodding and taking off.

Jon looked to Pyp, "Hey, I need something to fight with. I need a syringe, knife, a sharpened pencil, anything like that."

Pyp shook himself like he was trying awake from a terrible dream, then yelled louder than anyone should in a hospital, ducking out of the room.

"Grenn," Jon said next, turning to him. "Find me a nurse. We need to get Robb moved to a different room."

"Gotcha," Grenn accepted, sprinting out the room.

Jon returned his attention to Robb, he ran his hands through his thick locks.

He smiled, "Don't worry big brother, I got you."

Robb had always watched out for him. Now the tables had turned, Jon had a chance to pay all that back.

* * *

 **I'm having trouble finding motivation to write.**

 **Reviews would help.**

 **So I know anyone is actually reading this.**


	9. The Tribulation Begins

**Chapter 9: The Tribulation Begins**

* * *

Jon's phone buzzed in a violent manner, he ripped the device out of his pocket as fast as he could. A text from Sam:

"I'm downstairs, four men just came in here, dressed in black suits and red ties. Probably Lannister men. They are talking with the lady at the counter, they will soon be up there."

"Fuck!" Jon yelled out, throwing his hands over his head. "Shit, where is Grenn?" He ran over to the door and stuck his head out into the hallway. Looking left and right, Grenn nowhere to be seen. In fact, no one could be seen. Not a single person, the hall appeared brimming with people a few minutes ago. But now, thoroughly empty. The fiery-haired friend he searched for couldn't be seen anywhere. He punched the doorframe in frustration, having no idea how much longer he had before a huge fight between him and some Lannister men would transpire

He turned back to Robb and started to think of a way he could get all of this shit out of the room without any help. Everything could be rolled around on wheels, so he could get it done, still, not sure if the process would be quick enough.

Slapping his forehead, he felt so exhausted. This could be too much for him to handle.

"Jon?"

A familiar voice, however, not a voice belonging to Grenn, Pyp, or Sam. Which perturbed him. He spun around quickly to see who had surprised him.

All worry faded away as his eyes were set upon the beautiful face of Daenerys Targaryen. She must be a nurse, Jon realized by her clothes. She even had on one of the cute nurse hats, a short-sleeved white button up, with white pants.

Jon had to rest his left hand against Robb's bed unless he should fall down. Completely stunned by her.

"Why are you here?" she asked, taking a step closer.

"Seven hells," he muttered, pinching himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Not a great time to be transfixed by a beautiful girl.

"Jon, you shouldn't be here right now," she exhaled. "I have to tend to him."

Suddenly, Jon came back from space. Looking like his soul just returned to him.

"Daenerys, you need to help me," he blurted, quickly.

Her brow furrowed, "What?"

His turn to move closer, within arms reach, "People are coming to hurt my brother, okay? They already tried earlier today, but he lived." Cocking his back to Robb, making sure he hadn't disappeared. "We need to move him, now."

He left her side and went to Robb, Dany sputtered, "What? What are you talking about?"

"Hey! Just help me! They are coming, they'll be here soon," Jon raised his voice.

Dany frowned, "Who?!" She asked incredulously.

Jon gritted his teeth, "The Lannisters." He spoke as if it hurt him to say the words.

Her expression softened, then she ran to the door and looked around in the hallway. "Alright," she finally said. "They aren't on this floor. Quick, we can take him down the hall."

"Good," Jon smirked. "I can handle the bed, can you get the respirator?"

She shook her head, "Leave it."

"What?"

"It needs to be plugged in, Jon," she scoffed. "There's another one in the other room, besides, he probably doesn't need the thing anymore."

"What if you're wrong?" Jon replied rapidly.

"Doesn't matter… anything is better than the Lannister's finding him."

Jon opened his mouth to speak, but then he realized she must be right.

"Let's go," she breathed, beckoning him to the front of the bed, she removed the respirator's apparatus from Robb. Jon began to pull on the frame of the bed going toward the door. Dany pushed from behind and pulled the blood and drainage bags along.

Jon checked the hallway before maneuvered the bed into the hallway, luckily the Lannisters still weren't here. Surprised it's taking them this long, he figured Sam must have tried to stall them. As quick as he could he pulled as hard as he could rightward down the hall. Dany helping so much as she could.

Actually better that the hallway miraculously cleared minutes ago. Eventually, they pushed Robb all the way to the adverse end of the hall. Located there a long corner, a single door at the end, Jon pulled it open and Dany held it clear. Once inside they placed Robb near the back of the room.

After all that, Jon put his hands on his knees. Wiping the sweat from his brow, feeling tired now. Dany drifted over to Robb, making sure nothing happened to him. Lowering her ear to his face, she sensed he had the ability to breathe on his own now.

"Jon," she called out to him.

He twisted to give her his attention, "Yeah?" Still breathing heavy.

"He's breathing," she affirmed.

Jon straightened, "Really? Great. Let's make sure he says that way," he moved to glare out the glass piece in the door.

"He's probably going wake up soon, he won't be strong… though somewhat present," Dany announced.

At this point, it would've been really great if Pyp could've been quicker in bringing him something to fight with. If shit hit the fan, he couldn't know for sure how he'd fare. Suddenly, he could see a face crest the stairs. He couldn't make the person out from the end of the hall. The person started down the hallway toward him. Features became more apparent as they drew closer, the incoming person could only be Pyp, Jon realizes.

With a heavy sigh, nearly kicking the door. "Speak of the devil," he muttered before walking out in the open, "Pyp!" Waving at him, "Get over here."

Pyp noticed him abruptly, without saying anything back he jogged down to him.

Jon grabbed him and pulled him into the room, "Hey! Where are you been?"

"Whaddya mean? I've been looking for a weapon for ya," he scowled.

Jon scoffed, "What'd you get?" He couldn't help but laugh out loud as Pyp pulled a plastic spoon out of his pocket, holding it out to him. He swiftly slapped the worthless object out of his hand.

Agitated, Pyp frowned, "And why'd you do that?"

Jon pinched the bridge of his nose, and shook his head, "Pyp, what in the fuck would I do with a plastic spoon? Where'd you even find that? The cafeteria?"

"Well…" Pyp hung his head, eyes on his shoes, "Yeah…"

"You went and had a... snack whilst I'm trying to keep my brother alive?" Despite the circumstances, Jon struggled to not burst into side-splitting laughter.

"Yeah-"

"Really?" Dany asked, standing by Robb.

They both looked over at her, "W-who… Who's that?" Pyp stuttered.

"Hey," Jon lightly slapped Pyp on the cheek. "Focus. Snap out of it. Plus… I've already called her." He whispered that last bit.

Pyp gasped, "No way?!"

Jon grinned and nodded his head, "Oh… yes."

"Will you two stop it!" Dany grumbled. "Enough... Jon, your brother is still here, remember?"

"Right," Jon sighed. "Pyp, what's going on downstairs?"

"Those Lannister guys are checking every room down there looking for Robb," Pyp responded.

"What?" Jon huffed, "They don't know he's up here?"

"Guess not," Pyp shrugged. Jon pulled out his phone and texted Sam, then went back over to the door.

"Well, their gonna figure this all out sooner rather than later," Dany came over next to them.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but who might you be?" Pyp asked, trying to sound alluring.

Dany extended her hand, "Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen nice to meet you."

Pyp gradually accepted the handshake, "Pyp… of… House… Uh-"

"Forget that," Jon hissed. "They're coming. Get down." Pyp and Dany did as they were told, crouching down.

Peering out the glass piece, four men could be seen, slowly waltzing down the hall. Checking every room as they went. Pistols fully were drawn, looking for a fight.

Jon slid against the door, "Fuck." He cursed.

"What?" Dany whispered.

"Guns," Jon said back. He held up four fingers, "Four men, four pistols."

Pyp exhaled, "We just have to hope they don't check back here."

Jon looked back through the class, they probably hovered around Robb's last room.

"They'll be here soon," Jon announced. "Dany, is there anything in here we can use?"

"Maybe," She replied. "I'll look."

"Quietly," Jon added. "Hey, Pyp, get Robb out of that bed and onto the floor, in case they start shooting."

Pyp made no response, only went over to Robb to get him down.

Jon got his phone back out and texted Grenn, "I don't know where you are, right now. But you gotta get back up here, there are some guys coming down on us. NEED HELP." He'd sent.

Once sent, he slapped himself in the face more than a few times. Trying to wake up, stay focused. Dany came back over, "Find anything?" he asked her.

"Yeah," She held out an old dirty syringe. "Found this in the trash."

"That'll work, thanks," he thanked. Looking at Pyp, "Hey, see how easy that was?"

"Shut the fuck up," Pyp growled. "Get ready."

Jon slid back over by the door, one of them moved towards the door.

"Alright," Jon whispered. "I'm gonna get the one that comes through. Try to get his gun, you guys get away from the door. They are gonna be firing like hell. Probably empty all their clips, that's when we go Pyp. Follow me out, get ready to back me up, in any way you can." Pyp nodded as solemn as he could. Dany hid as good as she could in the corner.

The goon at the door pressed his face to the glass, "What's in here?" he inquired.

"I dunno," One of them from behind him chatted. "Think he's in there?"

"Hmm… _The Tribulation Begins,"_ Jon muttered under his breath.

"Could be… I'm gonna check it."

The man turned the door nob, taking a slow step inside, "Hey something-"

He couldn't finish because Jon jabbed the syringe in his neck about as hard he could. The man fell to his knees, and blood began spewing out of his neck at a high rate. The pistol fell the floor. As soon as this occurred, the other three fired until their guns ran out of bullets.

All utterly silent, bullet holes littered the walls and inside the room. One of the other goons asked, "We get em?"

"You see that shit? Of course, we got em! No motherfucker would survive that shit," another barked.

Just then, Jon popped out the door holding the gun, he firing several shots at them. He hit one the gut twice, another in the arm and the last not at all.

The gut-shot one fell to the ground on his back, groaning in intense pain, blood coming to the surface of his jacket. Kicking and screaming, trying to scoot away. The arm shot one, and the unscathed goon hid around the corner.

"Chase!" One from around the corner yelled to the one on the ground, apparently named Chase. "You okay?!"

Chase moaned, "What the... fuck does it look like! Ugh… I think… I'm dying." He tried to hold his hands against his wound, yet he couldn't stop the bleeding. Lifting a hand from off it, stained with crimson. "I'll… just lay… here."

"Goddammit, you fucker! Chase! Stay with us!"

"Hey!" Jon yelled with authority. "You still have a chance to run, go now and you can leave. You can even take your friend Chase!"

There seemed to be a conversation, but Jon couldn't hear what they were saying.

Pyp crawled over and plucked the syringe out of the killed goon's neck. Only causing more blood to seep out. He nodded at Jon, a signal he's ready to go. Jon released the clip out of his gun to see how many bullets he had left, one he realized.

"Dammnit," he bit his lip. Holding up one finger to Pyp to let him know he only had one bullet left. "Dany? You okay back there?"

Dany waved her hand in the air, then a thumbs up.

"How about Robb?"

Dany crawled over to him, checking him over. There didn't appear to be any blood. Giving another thumbs up to Jon so he'd know.

Jon then proceeded inclined his chin towards the door so Pyp knows to follow him. Crouch walking out the door, he kept his gun trained on the edge of the corner, waiting for them to peek out. He noticed that the man named Chase had clearly passed away, not moving in any way.

Stopping just before the corner, holding his hand up to halt Pyp. He stood up, pressing himself against the wall.

Suddenly, one of them turned the corner, gun in hand, screaming. Seeing this, Jon fired quickly, hitting the man in the neck. Fortunately, the man didn't fire his gun. He fell to one knee, dropping the gun to the marble floor. Using both hands to hold onto his neck, one hand on the front the other on the back of his neck, considering the bullet went clean through the windpipe. Gargling up blood in his mouth, he collapsed.

Remembering how to count, there may only one left, Jon breathed a little heavy. Noteworthy to the last standing man because he again let loose his whole clip through the wall Jon happened to be pressed against. After the first bullet, he dropped to the floor covering his head. Pyp did the same.

When the shots stopped, as quick as he could he got up, moving around the corner, finding the one shot in the forearm trying to reload without the use of his left arm. At the sight of Jon, his expression changed into one that was about to produce tears. He tossed the gun aside, holding his one good hand up as a sign of surrender.

Jon squatted down to his level, "What is Tywin planning?" He asked simply.

His voice shaky, "I… He… He'll kill me if I tell you anything."

Pyp appeared behind Jon, "This guy just killed three of your buddies. You don't think he'll kill you too?"

"Y-you'd kill me?"

"I'll do anything to protect my family and friends if that means I have to kill-"

When the word came off his tongue, he came to recognize he just killed three people. Stopping mid-sentence, he stood up. It just happened, he hadn't had a second thought about it. Still, he wished he had. Always thought that the first kill would be startling, jarring. Conflictingly, the kill came so easy to him. He even noticed his jacket now appeared to be soaked with blood. Mostly from that first man he'd killed with the syringe. The realization came so quickly like a boulder came into being out of nothing and dropped right on his back. Also gone just as fast. The weight of it disappeared, just like that. He wondered if it'd always be like that. Upon further reflection, he really didn't like having to kill those men. However, he had to do it, and he'd do it again.

Returning his attention to the goon, the man inhabited a current state of intense fear. Easy to see, he shook like a dying tree in a hurricane. Sort of like he saw death standing in front of him.

"Dany," Jon called out.

"Yeah?"

"You alright in there?" Jon went to find her.

"I'm okay."

When he saw her, she's most definitely not alright. Appeared like she had a cold or the shivers, but it's sixty-five degrees in the hospital. She couldn't be cold. Nevertheless, she clutched either arm like a blizzard just came through the room.

Scared to death more like.

Jon came close to her but she shied away.

"You sure you're okay?"

"No!? I'm not. You just murdered those people."

He moved closer still, she still retreated.

"I had too, they woulda killed us, killed my brother. I couldn't let that happen," Jon shook his head.

"How are… you, not an emotional wreck right now?" She has to know. "You just murdered—"

"Please stop saying murder," he sighed. "I defended us. It's self-defense."

"How'd you even learn how to do that?"

"Jory taught me… not all of it… I'm actually still kind of surprised I did all of that."

"Outright ridiculous! People died..."

He put his hands on his chest as if she accused him, "I know—"

She walked past him, "I have to get out of here." Going to the door, navigating the dead person with the syringe in his neck. In the hall, glaring at the dead body on the floor, and the now large pool of blood surrounded the head. Out on the floor, there's so much gore that stepping in it creates some tiny splashes. Just like playing in the rain.

Dany felt her lunch coming back up to visit her. Spinning back around into the waiting arms of Jon Snow.

Had to admit, she did feel safer in his arms. They shared a moment, looking into each other's eyes. Under different circumstances, they might even share a kiss.

"What the… Oh my goodness!" Jon recognizes the voice of Sam coming down the hall.

Grenn also walked next to him with a puzzled countenance. Dragging his bat behind him, an object of great importance to him. His most prized possession, a wooden baseball bat, the same one he used all throughout his sport playing days. The length of it is marred with little notches he'd cut into it with a knife; for every single homer, he ever hit. There'd been a lot of home runs.

"Aww… man! You didn't leave any for me," Grenn lifted his bat to rest on his shoulder. "You told me to bring it, Jon. I did, and I had nobody to swing it at."

Pyp blocked his view of the last goon, he moved out of the way, hand open to him, "There's still one more." The goon's face contorted into an expression of absolute horror.

Grenn's did the literal opposite, lighting up. But Jon stepped in front of him, "Brother, you could've been swinging that thing all other the place if you'd been here sooner."

"What?" Grenn nearly yelled at the top of his lungs. "I looked for a nurse, just like you told me." He pointed his bat in the direction of Daenerys, "You found one anyway."

Putting his hand on the bat, knocking it down, "Total luck she's here now, you're lucky she randomly saw me, Grenn. If not… who knows… Robb and I could've been long dead by now."

Sam might faint, "Jon… what happened to these people here?" Nodding his head toward the dead bodies.

Jon clasped his shoulder, "Sam, brother, I'll tell you. We were trapped in that room back there and they were closing in on us—"

Sam audibly gasped, "You killed them?"

"Them or us," Jon replies sternly. "I figured we deserved to keep living."

Sam would never see Jon in the same way ever again, but on the other hand, he understood why. He had to take care of his family, the cost didn't matter. Though that didn't mean the thought of taking someone else's life seemed so distant to him. Almost gives off a nauseating vibe. Distressing to think it came so easily to Jon. Maybe it's fight or flight, adrenaline or just pure instinct. Wondering if this sequence of events would have any impact on Jon moving forward.

"Dany," Jon's voice ripped through the silence. "You gotta go, 'cause we gotta go."

"Yeah," she started to move but Jon spoke again.

"Hey… you were never here. We got you. This isn't gonna be a problem. If someone asks where you fleed to, make something up," Jon smirked. "But don't worry, they probably won't ask. I'll make sure of that."

As he spoke her gaze wandered back down the hall, just wanting to get out. Get some air. Soon as he finished talking she took off in a speedy walk.

Jon called after her, yet she didn't look back. Then he caught up to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. Not being able to decide whether to shudder or sponsor his touch, she did nothing but stop.

He went in front of her, hand still on her.

"I'm really sorry about all this," Jon apologized. "I didn't mean for you to get all wrapped up in this. It's my fault I shoulda sent you away…"

Unclear to her whether or not she felt it was a good decision to help him. Being able to help save his brother's life seemed important, saving anyone's life should, however this… had a different feel. This became the sole experience for her so far, that afterward there was the question if it was the right thing to do. She became a nurse to help people, never in a million years would she think this feeling would ever be present.

Although, at the end of the day, someone ended up living instead of dying. So it mattered that she was there. Robb and Jon may be dead if not for her. Therefore, it's better that she came to Jon when she did.

"You're right… normally," Dany blinked. "However, what took place wasn't normal circumstances. So, despite what the events; I'm glad I could help."

"Will I see you again?" Jon proposes, hopeful.

Backing up, she replied: "You will…" Jon grinned. "But I need time." The smile faded, "This whole sequence of events, of course, felt quite… traumatic." She goes past him, reaching the stairs but before going down, she turned back to Jon. "It'd be a good idea if you went upstairs, there's access to the fire escape out of the window in the last room." Then she faded away down the stairs.

Jon watches as she went out of sight, truly gone, he whipped back around. "Grenn, pick up our survivor, I'll get Robb."

"We're bringing them with us?" Sam asked.

"I can't leave my brother here after all of that, and we need to get some info out of that guy," Jon responded. As he spoke he went past them to get Robb.

Moments later he emerged with Robb hung over his shoulder, the Lannister goon fought off Grenn, "Leave me! Get back!"

Growing frustrated, Grenn gave the guy the hardest punch in the face he could muster. The lights went out in the guy's head, passed out.

"Lord… Grenn, what are you doing?" Sam gulped, surprised.

"Not gonna have this rat fuck kicking and screaming the whole fucking time I'm carrying his ass," Grenn scoffed, sounding like it should be easy to see. Then lifting him up over his shoulder.

The four of them started down the hallway.

"I wonder why the cops never showed up?" Pyp wondered.

Jon nodded, "I thought about that, it's probably because the Lannisters had already told them not to call. Let them know ahead of time shooting would take place… and that occurred anyway… so I figure they didn't freak out."

"They'll have something to freak out about when some poor nurse comes up on the bloody mess back there," Grenn jeers.

Pyp slapped Sam's arm, "You distract the Lannister men or something? Took them a really long time to get up here."

"Oh…" Sam rubbed his forearm. "I'm kinda sweet on the girl at the desk. I told her not to tell them nothing concerning Robb's whereabouts."

Just as Dany had suggested, they found the fire escape. Made their way to the ground, made more difficult because of the extra two bodies they had to lug around. Jon had Sam use his phone to call somebody to come to pick them up, urgently. They hid in an alley until the car arrived.

When it pulled up to the street, Jon told them, "Grenn, you come with me, Sam and Pyp you guys go home, lay low, don't do anything stupid for a few days... You don't wanna see this anyway."

Sam grimaced, "What are you gonna do?"

"Thanks for the help, Sam. I appreciate you much," Jon beamed. "You too, Pyp… Come on, Grenn."

As they strolled away, "Jon! Don't do anything foolish!" Sam insisted.

Grenn laid the Lannister man in the truck, Robb got put in the backseat. Jon gazed back at Sam, "I'd never, my friend."

They both climbed in the car and sped off.

* * *

Catelyn only screamed, and cried as Jon brought Robb in the house. Blaming him for all of it, because it had to be all his fault somehow. They took him and brought him to his own room. He'd get better care here than at the hospital.

Arya and Sansa hounded him, demanding to know all that had gone on at the hospital. Surely, he couldn't tell them anything. He just wanted to know if they'd heard from Ned.

They hadn't.

"What do you mean? He still hasn't called? It's been a whole day!" Jon yelled, reddening face.

The three of them gathered in their expensive kitchen, talking across from the granite island there.

Arya, stunned by the sudden increase in the volume of his voice, "Jon, don't take it out on us."

His mug softened, "Y-yeah… sorry. I've just had a long… day."

"Tell us what happened," Sansa groaned. "Please…"

"Why did you bring Robb here?" Arya added. "Shouldn't he be back at the hospital?"

Jon shifted away from them, back to his sisters. Out of nowhere, his phone rang, removing it from his pocket. He knitted his brow when he didn't recognize the phone number. Answers it, he put it to his ear, "Hello?"

" _Yes… is this Jon Snow?"_

That voice, he'd heard it before. Not able to place it yet.

"Yeah?" he replied.

"You surprise me, bastard."

"Who is it, Jon?" Arya sought.

Jon held his hand up to silence the room, "Who is this?"

"I think… you must know who this is."

He took a few moments to think, then it came to him, "Tywin… Tywin Lannister."

"That's right, boy."

Arya and Sansa had to hold their breath, lest they scream.

Jon started to pace back and forth, "For what do I owe the pleasure?"

Tywin grunted, "I thought you were smarter than this, perhaps this will be easier than I thought… Crushing you. When I heard what you did at the hospital, you blew me away. I considered you to be a weak little child. Didn't even think I had to worry about you."

Jon smirked, "Guess you were wrong."

"Perhaps… let us stop wasting time. I planned to leave you alone. You made your choice though, you murdered three of my men… and kidnapped my Nephew."

To that, Jon frowned. His nephew?

"Ooh…" He laughed, trying to play it cool. "That bloke? I gotcha. Yeah… we got him."

"Yes… well, I need him back."

"Why would I give him over? He tried to kill my brother."

"Personally, I don't care for the boy. Lancel, that idiot, I wish you just killed him. Waste of my name, not unlike my dwarf son. But he's a Lannister, and my brother has been chewing my ear off about it," Tywin sighed. "So… I make you a deal. Return my nephew, and I'll give you peacetime."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jon lamented. "Hash this out with my father, like you old coots always do."

After a long a silence, "I would if… I could."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Jon nearly lost his temper.

"As I said, I need the boy back. Return him to me, I'll call you in a day or so about meeting details…"

"Wait!" Jon screeched into the phone. "What do you mean?"

"I think you know," Tywin hung up.

Bringing the phone down from his ear, blood starting to boil, he dropped the phone to the ground.

"Jon…" Arya worried. "What did he say?"

Without responding, he rushed off into the house, with a purpose. His sisters went after him, trying to get him to stop. He had no intentions of stopping. Until he stood before the door that led down to the basement. Never been down except for one time, when he was the age of just seven. He'd been warned about what might be down there, not allowed to go see for himself though. Nevertheless, one night, he couldn't sleep. Went to the kitchen for some warm milk. Out of oblivion, noises came from below him, specifically, the basement. Ever the curious child, he got the door to the basement agape. The clamoring only grew louder now that the door came open. Scary noises, Jon didn't know what at the time, although the seven-year-old version of himself got scared shitless. Compounded by the darkness of the descending stairs leading into even further fogginess.

No one saw him. He never told anyone about it. Not until he got to be much older did he realize what went on down there.

Ned used to take people down there that he didn't like, to get them to tell them things he wanted to hear. Now, Lancel sat down there. Tied to a chair.

Jon tore the door open and closed it behind him, going down the stairway. His footfalls terrified Lancel, every step got louder and louder.

A dark room, the only light came from a lone lightbulb that hung from the ceiling. Lancel Lannister settled, in a wooden chair, hands bounds to the back of it. By the stairs, a metal workbench that contained any device you might need to assist someone in prying knowledge from another. Grenn waited in the corner, bat in hand.

"Ah… Lancel Lannister," Jon greeted.

"This one's a real Lannister?" Grenn cracked a smile.

"Yes, yes… He is," Jon turned to the workbench perusing its various items in each drawer.

The idea of what he might do would usually disgust him. The act does, but things had taken a turn for the worse with Tywin. He needed to use whatever he could at his disposal to learn something about what the Lannisters were planning. They couldn't just be wandering in dark anymore, they must know what exactly they were up against.

"Lancel, I really don't want to hurt ya," Jon sighed. Curving back to face the poor boy. "Honestly, I don't. This whole situation makes me sick to my stomach. That doesn't matter because I will do anything within my power to prevent anyone in my family from getting hurt. Again, I don't want to hurt you. Though… my friend here will."

Grenn waved at him, "Hey, kid."

Jon ambled over to him, taking a knee. Lancel resembled a small child who just saw the monster in his closet. The wounded arm had stopped bleeding by now, though he couldn't really feel it anymore. The left check sport a big black and blue bruise, courtesies of Grenn.

"Please, tell me what Tywin is going to do. What's his plan?"

Lancel started to tremble, "I don't know! I don't know! They don't tell me anything!"

"They why did you and you're friends come to kill my brother today?! Huh?" Jon steamed. "You must be in the loop. Otherwise, you wouldn't be running with the regulars."

Lancel swallowed hard like somehow a rock got stuck in his throat. "I… swear, I don't know anything. The only reason I was there today was that I hang out with those guys… you killed. We were just riding around in the car when Chase mentioned we had to go kill Robb Stark. Naturally, I wanted out. I couldn't. They forced me to go!"

"I don't care about any of that!" Jon spat. "You are a Lannister. You must have heard something. Please, Lancel… tell me something! Don't make us hurt you."

"I swear!" he cried. "I don't know a damn thing!"

"You believe him, Grenn?" Jon quizzed. Keeping his eyes on Lancel.

"Not for a fucking second," Grenn shook his head, spitting.

Jon's temper rising, "Lancel, you are-"

The door to the basement swung open hitting the wall with a crash.

"Fucking shit!" Jon cursed. "Sansa? Arya? Don't come down here!"

"Jon? It's… Robb."

"What?" Jon took a big step back to the bottom of the stairs. Peering up the stairs, he could see a figure, not sure who exactly it could be. "Robb?"

"It's me, brother," Robb slowly made his way down the steps into the light. He wore only a black striped robe, white boxers, the bandages tightly wrapped around his chest area were visible.

"Holy shit," Jon whispered. As Robb made it down the last step. "It's you."

Robb laughed, then seemed pained by it and stopped.

"'Course it is," he coughed. "Who else? You think one bullet could stop this train?"

* * *

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	10. Sharper Teeth

**Chapter 10: Sharper Teeth**

* * *

Jon enraptured his brother in a hug, that Robb reciprocated.

Apparently, Jon squeezed him too hard, "Ow!" Robb griped. The hug growing painful for him.

"Sorry," Jon atoned. "Just happy to see ya." He released him. No one really knew whether or not Robb would actually be alright in the end. The sight of him, looking relatively in good health, made Jon happy.

"You too," Robb relayed, putting a hand on his shoulder. Nodding at Grenn, "Hey, Grenn."

"Wassup?" Grenn shined.

"Not much," Robb chuckled. Stepping around Jon, seeing Lancel, he almost choked on air. "What in the hell? What is going on down here?"

Jon regarded him, "Robb, this is Lancel Lannister. He tried to kill you a few hours ago."

A pale Robb somehow got paler. "Really?"

"Yeah, dude, a bunch of guys tried to kill ya at the hospital, Jon fought em off," Grenn muses.

Robb snorted, "What? You… fought em off?"

Jon rubs the back of his neck, "It was them or us."

"What'd you do — wait… No way, you killed them?" Robb started to sound exasperated. He pointed at his brother, "That was blood on your jacket? I figured it had to be ketchup or something."

"Robb… Do you honestly think I'd let them get to you? A bunch of fucking asshole goons thinks they can just do whatever they want. I did what I had to," Jon assured.

Robb held his hands up, "I get that. Just surprised is all."

"You're not alone," Jon sighed. "The whole thing hasn't caught up with me yet."

"Jon, why don't you get Robb caught up?" Grenn suggests.

"Yeah, please," Robb agreed.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Jon asked him, slowly.

"Uhh…" Robb shifted uncomfortably, trying to jog his memory. "Couple of those guys were roughing up Margaery. I stood up for her. It all got worse when the shitheads recognized me. Apparently, people know me now. Then a lot of words got tossed around, some shooting started…" he opens his robe, exposing his stained bandages. "I got shot."

"The doctor told me you fell on your head," Jon said, checking Robb over. Standing on his tiptoes to see the top of Robb's scalp.

"What are you doing?" Robb laughs, somewhat nervously.

"I told ya, the doc told me you took a nasty hit on the head. Brother, you were unconscious for a little while there."

"How long?"

Jon tried to do a little mental math, scratching his beard, "Probably from the moment you hit the ground, to whenever you just woke up."

Suddenly, "Can I just be let go please!" Lancel cried.

"Shut the fuck up!" Grenn yelled, stepping closer to him.

"Yeah and I forgot to say," Jon grimaces. "When I got home, Tywin gave me a call."

The words hit Robb hard, he stumbled back. "W-What? Why?"

Jon brushes his hair out of his face, "Told me we need to give Lancel back. Something about his brother wouldn't stop grinding him about it, but he didn't even care about the boy anyway."

Lancel seemed to shrink in size, "What?" His voice barely above a whisper.

Jon glances to him, "Don't speak unless spoken to, shut up! Anyway… there was something else." His eyes falling to the ground.

"Damn, don't leave me in suspense, what is it?" Robb had to know.

"Don't freak out. He could have just been fucking with me… though it doesn't matter… Tywin alluded to or at the very least knows something happened

to Dad."

"Well… what does that mean?"

"I don't know. All I know is we haven't heard from him all day. Texted, called, asked around… Nothing. Nobody has seen or heard from him."

"Wasn't he going to Roose Bolton's penthouse?"

"Supposedly," Jon replied, demeanor decreasing. "But we really don't have any idea where he is. I fear the worst."

"Don't talk like that," Robb scolded. "Surely he's fine. His phone probably just broke."

"If it was something as small as that…" Grenn began, "We'd heard about it by now. He woulda got in touch."

"I'm genuinely worried about it," Jon fretted. "Dad went to Bolton's. Anything could've happened. Everybody knows the two of them never had any love for each other, and this stuff with Tywin…" Jon pauses. Running it all over in his head. "Trying to kill you twice… it's going all bad, brother. What are we gonna do?"

Robb rubbed his forehead, taking a deep breath. Taking doubtful steps around. "I don't have any idea. I'm not ready, Jon. I had so much more to learn from him."

"I know, brother," Jon calmed. "It's a lot to take in right now…" Robb avoided his gaze, being he was still pacing around. "Hey," Jon got his hands on him, trying to settle him. "It's okay… it's okay. It's gonna be alright."

"How can it?" Robb talks back, incredulous.

"We'll figure it out, we always do."

"How can you be so calm right now?" Robb's voice increased in volume.

Jon shook his head, "As I said, it hasn't all set in yet."

"You're damn right it hasn't! I've just found out about all this and I'm freaking out… how long have you known all this?"

Jon blinked, "It's been awhile… but let's not worry right now… " He tried. "Focus on the task at hand, Lancel here."

"What're we gonna do with 'em?" Grenn questioned, fixing to do something nasty.

Robb took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He surveyed Lancel, he didn't look like a killer. Not in the slightest, taking a step closer to him, "You sure he was there today? This dude doesn't seem like he could step on an ant without feeling bad about it."

"Positive," Jon answered. "We took him straight from there."

"If Tywin hurt Pop in any way, there's no way we give this guy back," Robb decides. His worried emotions had evolved into utter anger. The thought of his dear father being attacked enraged him.

Jon raises his eyebrows, "Really?"

Lancel starts to whale loudly, screaming for help. "Let me go, please!"

Grenn knocked him in the forehead with the butt of his bat to silence him. Lancel banged his head against the back of the chair. His forehead started to bleed.

"Does he know anything pertaining to Tywin dealings?" Robb proposes. Happy that Lancel had shut up. Those noises should never come out of any human. Sounds like a baby who lost their pacifier.

"Before you came down I was asking him about that stuff, he swore up and down he didn't know shit," Jon responds.

"I find that hard to believe."

"Yeah… me too."

"I reckon what Tywin would do to him scares him more than what'd we do to em' now I guess," Grenn reasons.

"Sounds right," Jon echoes. "Is that right Lancel?" He stood over their prisoner.

"I just wanna go home," Lancel whined.

"That depends on two things," Robb relayed. "One, What Tywin did to our father. Two, what you tell us about your family."

"Fuck!" Lancel grunted, some spit flying from his mouth. "I told you, and I'll say it again… I don't know anything!"

Jon hung his head next to Lancel, "We don't believe you. Stop saying that… it's bullshit. Everybody knows it's bullshit. You must know something."

"This is your last chance," Robb added. "Out with it, or it's gonna get real bad for you."

Jon locked eyes with Robb, "You sure?" He asked me, hesitantly.

"Damn right I'm sure, this guy knows something."

"Out with it!" Grenn exclaimed.

Lancel started to hyperventilate, and he shook his head. Hanging his head. His strength surprised Robb and Jon.

"Fine. Grenn, hit him," Robb orders.

Grenn went over to the workbench, retrieving a pair of brass knuckles from one of the drawers. Then he came over to Lancel and punched him in the gut.

"Talk!"

Another hit, "What's Tywin planning? Talk!"

This time, Grenn held his head up before he laid one on his cheek. Then four more to the face and stomach. Lancel groaned and yelled incoherently.

After that, Lancel's face had a cut above his eye and on his left cheek. So his whole face dripped blood, sported a few bruises. His head hung over the right side. Ribs felt broken.

The sight was discomforting to Jon, sent chills down his whole body.

Robb really just wanted some information and do whatever it took to get it.

Jon steps up, "Lancel, you have got to talk. Or it's gonna get a lot worse."

Lancel just moaned in response, possibly not able to talk.

"What's it gonna take?" Robb couldn't believe he wouldn't give Tywin up.

"You… don't understand," Lancel groaned. He muttered something else but it wasn't clear because he talked into his shoulder.

Grenn slapped Lancel's face, "What was that?"

"Ah!" Lancel sat back up. "Fuck… you shitheels don't know what he'd to do me if I said anything. You're right… he scares me far more than you. There is nothing you can do to make me talk. Nothing!"

Robb clasps his hands, "What would he do?"

"Huh?"

"What would Tywin do to you if you said anything?"

Lancel answers quickly, "He'd kill me."

Robb laughed, "No way. You're a weakling but a Lannister. No way Tywin spills blood from his own family line. Kick the shit outta you maybe… take your money. But he'd never kill ya. If he would kill someone from his family the Imp would've been dead for a long time now." Lancel started to tremble again, "Here's where you're wrong… you think we won't kill you?"

"Robb—" Jon mustered.

"No!" The eldest brother cut him off, wide eyes on him for a few seconds.

Returning to Lancel, "Tywin won't kill you. Never. But if you think for a second, I won't kill you… you're mistaken. You've taken a look at the mark on your neck lately?" Lancel tried to look at it even though it wasn't possible. "That means you're affiliated with the Lannisters," Robb continues. "From this moment on, I will kill any and all Lannisters or men working for you. Tywin most likely took my father from me…" He had to glance away for a moment, but he was back just as fast. "He's started this. He knew what he was doing. What he doesn't expect, is what's coming next… You have two options, Lancel, the first is talk and we'll see about letting you walk out of here. However, the second, you refuse further still to talk, I will unleash all my powers to make you suffer in the worst ways possible. We won't just shoot ya… no… die slow."

Jon watched as Robb spoke, he began to wonder where his brother went. And where this stranger came from. The words piped out of his mouth with such a fury that Jon had to step back so he wouldn't get burned. Robb moved closer as he spoke, so now hanging over Lancel like a broken chandelier looming over an unsuspecting bystander. Threatening to crash down and eradicate all below.

"If you wanna know who has _sharper teeth,_ wolves or lions," Robb raged. "I'll show you. You'll know."

"Holy fuck, Robb," Jon whispers. Even he felt threatened.

Grenn remained silent, expressionless. Though he retreated back to the corner of the room.

From where ever Lancel pulled that momentary confidence, it was long gone now. He'd pissed his pants in fear. Shaking like someone would when they faced death.

"You wanna talk now?"

Lancel pinched his eyes closed, tears forming, head drooped earthward.

"Damnit, Lancel, talk for fuck's sake," Jon pleaded. "I've never seen Robb so intense right now. Even I don't wanna get in his way right now. If you still refuse… I have no idea what he'll do. One thing I do know, it'll hurt."

"No!" Lancel said, defiant.

Grenn came back over with his bat, rearing back, he stuck Lancel on the chest with it. Then another hit across the face. Lancel's eyes rolled back, unconscious. His nose now sideways spewed some blood on the floor.

Getting ready to hit him again, Grenn brought his bat over his head. But before he did, Jon grabbed the club.

"Don't fucking kill him! What do we learn then?" Jon scolded, pushing Grenn back.

"What's your problem?" Grenn sputtered.

"You fucking took it too far!" Jon shouted. Pointing at Lancel, "He's half-dead, dammit! He can't tell us a fucking thing if he's dead."

"Jon's right, Grenn," Robb nodded. "You went a little crazy there."

"I was just playing off what you were saying," Grenn quipped. "You were saying some fucked up shit… I followed it up with the bat."

Jon shuffled over to Lancel, checking on him. There was a lot of blood. He checked his pulse, he's alive, for now. Jon observed him, his head hung over on his left side. Face completely battered, lip split in a couple places golden hair tattered and shaggy, tossed over his back, dangling towards the floor.

When he didn't really seem like he'd wake up any time soon, Jon tapped him on his bloodied forehead, "Hey… Lancel?" The putting his whole palm on his cheek, patting. "Wake up."

Jon backed up when Lancel sucked in a heavy breath, opening his eyes.

"Back to the land of the living?" Grenn called out.

Lancel snorted, trying to remember how to breathe properly again. He yelped when his eyes opened up, feeling all the pain at once. Groaning, he rocked the chair back and forth.

"Tywin is gonna be upset we beat the shit outta his nephew," Jon pointed out.

"I don't care, why does that matter?" Robb stepped in front of Jon.

"If Tywin rains down more hell on us because of this… then yeah it fucking matters!" Jon yelled, rising to his toes to accent his point. Trying to make Robb see reason when all he sees is red, might be one of the most difficult things ever. Jon decides.

"We can deal with him."

Jon grabbed Robb by the shoulders and shook him, "No we can't! If he can get to Dad he can get to anyone! Don't you see?"

Robb shrugged out of his brothers grasp, "I see perfectly. I see a Lannister sitting there. As of now… they're are our only true enemy. Lancel will tell us what he knows or he dies!"

"O-okay…." Lancel squirmed, sitting up. "No more…I'll talk."

Robb grinned, rotating back around, bringing his hands together, "Ah… you've come to your senses. Great. What will you tell us?"

"Before I say anything," Lancel sobbed. "Will Tywin ever know it was me who talked?"

"Well, I don't have any reason to tell him," Robb replies. "Though it's not my fault if he figures it out it happened to be you. You're just gonna have to try your luck." He chuckles.

The response didn't seem to satisfy Lancel but he began anyway. "So," He exhales. "As I said, they don't tell me anything. But, I have heard some stuff. The way I heard it was Tywin had been planning to murder Ned for some time. I don't know how, or if had plans to do it soon… just that he wanted to."

"That is nothing we didn't already know, Lancel," Jon asserted. "You gotta come up with something better than that."

"My brother speaks truly," Robb agreed.

Lancel pouted, clearly trying to rack his brain for something to say that would get him out of here, and also wouldn't betray his family too much.

"Umm…" he rumbled, not sure what to say.

"Damnit!" Robb thundered. "Lancel! You are trying my patience."

Jon put a hand on Robb's chest to calm him, "Hey, Lancel, what if we ask you a question? Huh? Here… Is Roose Bolton a cohort of Tywin?"

Lancel bit his lip, "Yeah," he nodded. "He's been over at the estate a bunch of times."

"What do they talk of?"

"Business," Lancel replied hastily.

"That sort of answer isn't going to fly," Grenn sounded off from the corner.

"Were Roose Bolton and Tywin conspiring to murder our father?" Robb demanded, the question entered his brain like a light switching on.

Lancel didn't appear to be in any hurry to respond. Avoiding the gaze of everyone in the room. He even started to shake again.

"Grenn," Robb called out with a stern face.

Grenn came back into the light, knowing what to without saying anything back. He came over the Lancel and struck him in the ribs. He hit him a bunch of times, all body shots. Treating the Lannister like a punching bag.

Lancel spits up a considerable amount of blood onto his shirt. Crying out in pain, feeling a few ribs crack and break.

"That's enough, Grenn!" Jon commanded.

Grenn reared back the let loose another blow, but he stopped. Moving back into the corner, rubbing his knuckles.

Lancel lurched forward, blood dripping from his mouth onto his pants.

Robb crouched next to him, "Still in there?" Lancel didn't retort, a low grunt was the only thing he could muster.

Jon raked his hands through his thick black hair, a wave of exasperation washing over him. "Lancel? Why are you doing this to yourself?" He implored.

"Hmm…" Lancel murmured.

"He's had enough, Robb," Jon told him. "I don't think he is even able to talk anymore."

Robb stood up, got close to Jon, "Why don't you understand? He _has_ to tell us something useful!"

"Goddamnit, Robb! He can't tell us a damn thing if he's unconscious!"

"How else are we going to get him to talk? Just asking wasn't fucking working! Y'know-"

A voice from upstairs interjected, "Robb?! Jon!?"

Jon's head snapped to the stairs, the voice very recognizable. "Uncle Benjen?"

The door to the basement opened softly. Benjen came down the steps slowly. Eventually, he stood before his nephews.

"What in all of the seven hells is going down here?" Benjen questioned, in a small voice. His face red, eyes even redder, like he'd been crying for some time. He wore a pale blue suit, sharp black leather shoes.

"Uncle Benjen?" Robb and Jon said in unison.

Benjen scoffed, "The one and only… I don't wanna know what's been going on down here... I'm gonna pretend I don't see that Lannister boy over there…" His gaze never settled on anyone for too long, "Will you boys just come on back upstairs. I… I gotta talk to Y'all." He turns back around towards to the stairway.

"What for?" Robb whined.

Benjen cocked just his head back to them, "Just… come on." Then proceeded up the stairs as slowly as he came down.

"Grenn, hook the chair up so he can't tip it over," Jon requested, before following his uncle.

Robb went soon after, Grenn went over to the wall where the hook was. It could be attached to the chair, so the captive couldn't knock the chair over, it hung from the ceiling. Lancel didn't move as Grenn affixed the hook to the back of the chair.

Upstairs, Robb and Jon accompanied Benjen to the den. Most of the family gathered there. All but Bran and Rickon, the smallest Stark had run out into the yard. He curled up into a ball, holding onto Shaggydog. Bran stayed in his room. Catelyn clutched her girls in her arms on the couch, her and Sansa in tears. Arya accepted the attention but fought back the emotion.

Benjen stood in front of the TV, covering his face. The two older brothers wandered into the den, completely confused.

"What is going on?" Robb hunted for an explanation in his family's faces. He found none, only pure melancholy.

Benjen uncovered his face, revealing his countenance. Somber, tears running down his face. "Ah… I'm sorry, boys."

Jon had guessed what had happened, though hearing it, made it so much worse. He put his hands on his head, falling to his knees. As if suddenly he lost the use of his legs. Features turning sour, eyes welling up. Watching as Robb stepped forward.

Robb didn't understand yet, he walked closer to his uncle, "What happened?"

Benjen let out a shuddering breath, "R-Robb... "

"What?"

"Your father…" Benjen seemed utterly heartbroken, destroyed. "He's… gone."

Robb scratched his face, "What you mean? Gone? Where'd he go?"

Catelyn squinted through her tears, "Robb…"

Robb twisted to regard his mother, "What?" He shrugged. "What happened? Why you are crying?"

"Robb, Dad is gone. He's passed," Jon announced to him.

Robb spun around to look at Jon, hearing the words, Benjen covered his face again, leaving the room. Robb frowned for a second, and then the realization set in. As if a rock hit him on the head, his ears started to ring, room spinning. He pushed his hair back with his hands, eyes wide. Tears burned in his eyes, but he tried to look brave.

"Uhh…" He cried. "H-huh?"

Sobbing now, Robb began to tremble.

Jon got to his feet, going to over to Robb. He tried to hold him but Robb pushed him back. "No… Jon, I don't-"

Jon forced Robb into an embrace, wrapping his arms around his brother. The oldest brother's tears stained Jon's jacket, and he returned the hug. Clenched fists hitting against Jon's back, not hard enough to hurt, but felt. Jon patted his hand on Robb's shoulder before he released him.

Robb rubbed his eyes, wiping the tears away. "Ah… Jon… W-we gotta… They must…"

Jon nodded, "I know, brother. I know. We'll get em."

Benjen came back into the room, having composed himself. Robb tried to do the same.

Jon eyed his uncle, "What happened to Dad?"

The family butler entered the room carrying a box of tissues. He handed them to Catelyn.

She sniffles, "Thank you, Mr. Luwin."

Luwin smiles, "Please… it's what I do." Then he left the room.

Benjen cleared his throat, "I have a man in the city watch. He called me as soon as he heard. Ned went to Bolton's penthouse… I don't know what went on inside, hopefully, I can learn more later. All I know is… he was shot. Pronounced dead at the scene of the crime."

Arya broke out her mother's grasp, "Who was it? Who shot him?"

"We don't know," Benjen sighed. "You'll know as soon as I do."

"Tywin," Robb figured. "Had to be Tywin."

* * *

Ned crumbled to the floor like a tree that'd just been hacked to pieces. The bullet hit him in the chest, though missing anything vital. He lay on his back, motionless. Remembering the small gun he kept tucked in a holster against his left leg.

"Fucking shit, Tywin," Roose groaned. "Why the fuck you shoot him now? That wasn't the plan. I thought you were just threatening him. You idiot, somebody must have known he was coming here… fuck!"

Tywin smirked, "Calm down, Roose. You are overreacting."

"Overreacting?" Roose asked, blown away. "You just shot the King of the Block. There are laws against this. Ever heard of the Accords?"

"It had to be me, I couldn't let some schmuck do this," Tywin defended himself, glancing over to Ned.

"Still, you shoulda done it literally anywhere else, not in my damn office!"

"This isn't about you!" Tywin growls. "This… was about me, about my family name meaning something again. The name Lannister, exuding fear. Instead of the being the after-thought we've been so many years. Ned Stark thought he could step all over us… I grew tired of that."

They continued to argue as Ned reached for his pistol. Luckily they talked behind the desk, and he had fallen in front of it. So they couldn't see him that well. Ned was able to roll his pant leg up, then retrieved the gun. He hid it under himself. Thinking about what to do next, there was no way he could get up to shoot at them. At least, not quick enough to, Tywin would easily be able to fire at him first. Although, if either them came to stand before him. He could get a few shots off. If he even got a chance, Ned felt himself slipping. Perhaps off to sleep, however, this was a different feeling. Striking pain, it's all closing in on him. From his white shirt now soaked with his own blood to the immense pain coursing through his body. Everything screaming that this might be the end.

Beginning to breathe heavier by the second, trying to savor every last bit of air he could get. Fearing Tywin would walk over any moment now. His thoughts wandered to his family, hoping they'd fare well without him. He knew there was so much he'd failed to impart to Robb. Wishing every question he and Jon had could be answered when the trunk in his office sprung open. Benjen would do as he was instructed.

The thought of leaving Jon without having told him the truth hurt more than the bullet. Realizing the knowledge should have hit his ears long before now. Ned wanted to tell him, but it wasn't up to him. Or his story to tell. All would come to light when it's supposed.

Nonetheless, when Jon came home crying because vicious children at school had berated him about being a bastard. He wanted nothing more than to put his mind at ease. Instead, Jon received all the love Ned could give, and whatever he needed.

He'd wished he had done enough. For everyone.

Footsteps reverberated through the floor, Ned felt them coming closer. He tried to slow his breathing, close his eyes.

"Don't you see? He's dead," Tywin slapped Bolton on the wrist.

"I see that he's gonna stain my carpet with all that blood-"

Ned brought his gun out from under himself, pulling the trigger as many times as he could until the gun clicked, signaling he was out of bullets. He couldn't really aim, being that he couldn't lift his neck off the ground. All he could do was lift his wrist and pull the trigger. He closed his eyes during the whole thing.

When he opened them, he saw that Roose had dived out of the way. Seemingly unhurt. Tywin, however, leaned up against the wall, holding his arm. Apparently, he'd missed a whole lot. The wall was littered with bullet holes, fresh wounds in the glass provided a whistling sound from the outside winds.

"You shot me," Tywin gnarled. "How aren't you dead?"

Ned made an attempt to speak, but no words came out of his mouth. Though he grinned through bloody teeth at the sight of Tywin in pain.

Not wasting another second, Tywin raised his gun and shot Ned three times.

* * *

Benjen, Robb, Jon, and Arya argued about who might've killed Ned. But they all agreed Tywin had something to do with it. Whether he did it himself or put it all in motion.

Once Catelyn had got a hold of herself, she mentioned she had to go break the news to Bran. After she left, Sansa with her, Benjen spoke, "Robb, Jon, I've something to show you. Arya, run along now."

"Why do I have to leave?" Arya argues.

Benjen put his hands on his hips, "This is not for your eyes or ears. Now go."

"Hmph," Arya scowled, before walking out of the den at a brisk pace.

"Boys," Benjen said. "Follow me."

Wordlessly, they obeyed.

Benjen led them to Ned's study. Where this all started. Once inside, Jon took a deep breath, trying to hold all his emotions from bubbling back up. Seeing all Ned's things, laying around, just as he had left them. Documents and notes strayed out all across his desk.

Robb drifted over to his father's chair, brushing his fingers over the worn leather. Slowly, he sat down in it. Resting his palms on the desk, he bit back a sob.

Benjen examines the books on the shelf behind Robb. Running his index finger down the binding of each. Watching the dust come off as he did.

Jon watched out the window as Arya walked out to comfort little Rickon in the yard. That brought a smile to his face in such horrid times.

"Why are we in here?" Robb spoke. "I don't know how much longer I can sit here without breaking down again."

Benjen reaches inside his shirt and pulled out a small key attached to a necklace. He held it out, "For this."

"Does that open what I think it does?" Jon gasped, eyes shooting to the heavy trunk in the corner. It'd been sitting there for as long as he could remember. Whenever they'd ask about it, Ned would tell them not to worry about it, or don't go near it. So they never did.

Benjen nodded, taking a step closer to it.

"Are you serious?" Robb shot up from the chair.

"I've no earthly idea what's in here," Benjen crouched down. "Only that he told me if anything ever happened to him. To open this box for the two of you. He said it'd help answer some of your questions." Not waiting for any response he pushed the key through the lock. When he turned it there was a satisfying sound of tumblers shifting. Then the top of the trunk lifted open slightly.

Benjen stood up, tossing the key on Ned's desk. "I'll leave you guys to it. No need for me to be here, just be outside." With that, he closed the door behind him.

Neither Robb nor Jon watched him go, they kept their eyes on the trunk. It was ornate, wooden. Caked with dust, haven't been opened up in a long, long time. They both arrived at their destination at the same time. They stayed silent as Jon raised the hatch of it just enough to reveal the contents.

Inside, we're two smaller boxes, with different names carved on the tops.

One said Robb, the other, of course, had Jon.

Robb reached in and got his out. A dark wooden box, with little direwolves, carved all over it.

Jon held his, a redwood box. Strangely, carved into his were direwolves, but also dragons, specifically, three-headed dragons. He looked at his, and then Robb's, "Why does mine have dragons on it?"

"Don't know, brother. A weird choice, that," Robb replies.

Jon merely shrugged and pulled open the lid of his box. In this box, there were a few things, but on top happened to be an envelope. He put the box down on the desk, once it was out of his hands. Setting his eyes on to the envelope, written on it: _To Jon._

He carefully tore into it.

Removing the letter, it was hard to read without light so he went to stand by the window.

 _Dear Jon,_

 _If you are reading this then well, I'm no longer with you. That's unfortunate, but it's impossible to avoid death's gaze. It must have been my time. Don't be sad, I'm sure I'm feeling a whole lot better by the time you read this.  
_

 _Despite my death, I hope this letter finds you well. I wish that your life is full of happiness and love. As mine was when I spent time with you. Know that I loved you more than you know. I hope I did enough for you. I tried my best._

 _Catelyn was always rough on you, but don't blame her. It's not her fault, I came home with you in my arms. She'd just given birth to Robb. She was rightly upset. Especially because she assumed that she wasn't good enough for me. Of course, that wasn't true._

 _I'm sure you'll hoping this letter will contain information about your mother. We never talked about her, and I'm sorry about that. You always worried if ever cared for you, loved you. Let me set your mind at ease, she loved you more than life itself. She gave everything for you. What I mean by that is her life. Your mother died in the bed she birthed you in.  
_

Jon covered his mouth, closed his eyes as he began to weep again. His tears dripped onto the parchment.

 _I loved your mother, very much. She was so different than any other woman I've ever met. I spent a lot of time with her, we grew up together. I know you want to know more… but it's still not time yet. It hurts me to know that I can't be the one to tell you the truth, know that I want nothing more. But have faith, you will know everything soon. He'll come to find you when he's ready. He should've always been to be the one to tell you. (Don't tear yourself up about who 'He' is.)  
_

 _I think you've always known, Jon. You're too damn smart for your own good. After reading this, you might start to wonder about your birth. But don't question yourself, you may not have my name, but you have my blood. And that's enough.  
_

 _Take care of Robb, he's a hot head and he'll need help. Help I know you will give him. You're a good kid, Jon. Don't let what people say about you get under your skin, they don't know you. You're stronger than you know. Think back to when we were sitting in that tree stand, remember what I told you. I didn't lie to you. Look around, you'll see me. I'll be there._

 _With you always,_

 _Ned Stark_

 _P.S. When all the fighting is done, go to Essos. You'll like it there.  
_

Jon was unable to hold back the emotion, he started to ball his eyes out. He set the letter down, crumbling to his hands and knees. All of the day's events culminated now, he felt everything at once. It all set in.

 _Dear Robb,_

 _Oh, my boy, you are single-handly one of the brightest spots of my life. I remember when you were born, I wasn't there. I had just returned home with Jon. Though I'll never forget when I first saw you. I was so damned happy. You've always made me happy, it's so easy for me to love you. It's been that way for a long time.  
_

Robb fell back into his father's chair, reading the words intently.

 _Pleasantries aside, if you're reading this. I've passed away. I hope it's not painful for you, Gods willing I'm in a better place. But, if I am this means it's your turn. I know I've already named you my heir. The Block is yours. I don't know how much I was able to tell you, so I'll try to give you a few tips now._

 _You probably already know this, but, never trust a Lannister. Tywin hates me. Always had, always will. This hatred will undoubtedly fall to you. Next, find some friends. You'll always have your family but you need friends in The Block. The best way to do this is to strike up a business agreement, one in which the both of you make money. That way they've no reason to betray you. I could always trust Jeor, he might help you. Robert, a drunken fool, but we've been friends for a long time. He's basically family. Olenna is an old soul, but as sharp as a knife. Don't get in her way. However, if you could find yourself aligned with her. You'd find yourself a powerful ally. Oberyn is in it as long as he's making money. Otherwise, stay away from Tywin, Walder, Roose, Viserys, and Euron. The five of them aren't to be trifled with. It goes without saying that Tywin might be the most dangerous person in the city. Aside from Viserys, those other three work with Tywin more often than not._ _They are not your friends._

 _I'm sorry to be dropping all of this on you now. But you're stronger than you realize. You'll figure it out. I know you will. Listen to Jon, he'll help you. Robb, my boy, know that I love you._

 _By your side,_

 _Ned Stark_

 _P.S. Don't feel like you are trapped in my shadow, make your way, do it your own way. Make your mark. I'm sure you'll be an even better King than I was._

* * *

 **Please leave a review.**

 **It helps a lot.**

 **Though the itch may be back.**


	11. Den of Wolves

**Chapter 11: Lions shouldn't tarry near a Den of Wolves**

* * *

Jon got to his feet, trying to get his bearings back. He noticed Robb sitting in Ned's chair, leaning back with his eyes closed.

"Robb," Jon sucked in a full breath. "What the fuck are we gonna do without him? I don't think I can ever recover from this." He held up the letter, "And this doesn't make it better."

"I don't know, brother. I don't know if we can ever be the same," Robb replied, keeping his eyes closed.

Jon shuddered, "It's not fucking fair. Of all the people… how could the world take him?"

Robb sat up now, "It wasn't the _world_ that took Dad from us." He hit his hand on the desk, "Tywin! It was Tywin, Jon. That I do know. Just that one thing."

"Aye," Jon echoed. "Tywin. What're our next moves?"

"Whiskey?" Robb looked at Jon.

"Yes please, some sweet relief," Jon huffed.

Robb opened the lower drawer of the desk and came back with a half-empty bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Jon moves closer to the desk, laying his letter by his box. Robb pours himself and Jon healthy portions of the bottle.

Jon took his eagerly, downing it in one gulp. "Ah… that's good shit," he put the glass back on the table. "Gimme another."

"Gods, Jon," Robb chuckles, pouring.

Jon's eyes wandered back to his box, realizing he didn't look to see what else was in it. He picked it up, tipping his head downward. He almost fell over once he saw the rest of the contents. A silver ring, the direwolf of House Stark engraved into it. Jon held it in his palm.

"Is that a ring?" Robb put his glass down.

Jon didn't respond, only walking back over to the window it looks at the ring in the light.

Robb's eyes widened, knowing he probably had something else in his box. Taking hold of his own.

Jon held the ring with his index finger and thumb. Examining the inside of it, an inscription, it read simply, "prestige, nevertheless, his name." Jon grinned as wide as he could. Then his slid it on his right ring finger.

A thick journal laid in the bottom of Robb's box, he set the box aside once he got the ledger out. Examining it, just a pale shade of brown leather. The binding is worn like it's been opened and closed a hundred thousand times. Robb sat back down at the desk, laying the book down on it. Opening it up, on the first page was a short note:

 _To Robb,_

 _I've been writing in this for a very long time now, I think it's plenty full of useful information. I wrote about my daily dealings, and extra knowledge I think was important for you to know._

 _See you around the bend, my dear boy._

 _Love,_

 _Ned Stark_

Turning the page, a couple full paragraphs resided there. Quickly reading them, Robb noticed this must have been written a very long time ago. Because the writings didn't pertain to anything Robb could remember happening in his lifetime. He kept flipping through it.

"What's that?" Jon inquired of Robb, strolling over.

"Some journal Dad had, he put it in my box," Robb didn't look up, still running through all the pages.

Jon decided he needed some pour whiskey, pouring himself some more. "What's it for?" he asked after he'd emptied yet another glass.

"Supposed to help me I guess, answer some questions," Robb assumed.

"You can read through it later," Jon sighed. "We gotta get ahead of this."

Reluctantly, Robb closed the book, "Yeah, you're right."

"What's our next moves?"

"Well, we need to deal with Lancel first… Don't be opposed to what needs to be done," Robb stood up so he could be level with Jon.

Jon looked away from him, "You gonna kill him?"

"What needs to be done."

"I don't want any part of that."

"Fine," Robb waved him off. "Fine. I'll have Grenn take care of it."

Jon sighed, returning his gaze to Robb, "I didn't mean for Grenn to get tied up in all this."

"Yeah, you did. Or you wouldn't have brought him here," Robb argued. "Besides, we can use him. Especially because we don't have clue where Jory or Niko is."

"Jory was with you."

Robb rocked back, "What? He was?"

"I sent him after you," Jon told him. "After you left the coffee shop. But I don't what happened to him. I assume he either got away or died. Or perhaps he's sitting in a hospital right now. You didn't see him?"

Robb shrugged, "Guess not."

"Alright well, I know Niko was with Dad, so… he could easily be gone."

Clenching his jaw, Robb nodded, "Yeah, could be."

"This is all so fucked," Jon cursed.

"Hey… you said Tywin called you right?" Robb walked around the desk, moving closer to Jon, an idea floating around in his head.

Jon inclined his chin, "He did."

"Gimme your phone," Robb said, holding his hand out.

"Okay?" Jon reached into his pocket, finding nothing, he shook his head. "I forgot. I left it on the kitchen floor."

Robb laughed, "Why did you do that?"

"I was angry. What Tywin told me brought up some emotions I hadn't felt in a very long time," Jon said, some of those feelings started coming back to the surface.

Robb raises one of his eyebrows, "What'd he say?"

"I told you already."

"No," Robb stiffened. "You summarized what he said. What did he _actually say?"_

"He talked of Lancel, how he really didn't give a shit about the boy. But we had to give him back because _he's a Lannister_."

"We ain't gotta do shit," Robb replies. "We ain't ever gonna do what he wants… ever."

"Then," Jon continues. "He mentioned Dad. He wasn't specific at all. But he said something like, 'I'd talk to him if I could.' Or some shit like that. The point is it was clear he knew something we don't."

"Now we know for sure he did something—"

"Nope," Jon interjects. "We know nothing. We assume he did. But we don't have a shred of proof. What we do have… we know Pop went to Bolton's and he ever came back out alive. We can't work with that. Roose Bolton for sure had a hand in it."

"Once the words out about Dad, everyone will suspect Tywin," Robb retorts.

"And he'll deny it," Jon guessed with some certainty.

Robb didn't respond, he only strolled over to the door, pulled it open and stuck his head out. Jon didn't see who he spoke to, but he heard him say, "Hey! Go get Jon's phone from the kitchen floor." The footfalls of whoever was obeying Jon could be felt through the floor.

Jon crossed his arms over his chest as Robb turned back to him, "You couldn't go get it yourself?" He chided.

"Why the fuck would I do it when I have thirty guys just standing around all over the place here?" Robb shot back with a small smile. Moments later, Jon's phone was placed in Robb's hand.

"Hand it over," Jon told him. Sticking his hand out.

Robb shook his head as he fiddled with his brother's phone, trying to unlock it. "What's your password?"

"It's 'Robb sucks dick,'" Jon replied quickly.

"Very funny."

Jon stomped over to Robb and ripped the own phone out of his hands and punched his password into it.

Robb stepped closer to look at the screen, "Go to your previous calls." Jon did as he was bid, several different numbers cascaded down the screen. Robb pointed out the one at the top, "That must be his number or one we can reach him at."

"He said he'd call me back with details about dropping Lancel off," Jon remembered.

"Piss on that," Robb barked. "You call him now."

"Why?" Jon sputtered, confused.

"Tell what we are going to do with Lancel."

"Which is what?"

"You said you didn't want any part," Robb reminded him. "Just tell him Lancel will be at 82 Gum Street." He left the room without another word.

Jon watched him go, then he stared down at his phone. Hesitantly, he pressed redial.

* * *

Loud clanging of forks against the porcelain plates, glasses of wine jangling around. The large room was dimly lit by candles across the expanse of the length of the dinner table. An expensive chandelier hung over the table. Ravishing cuisine lined the dining table from end to end. From succulent chicken to roast beef, it's all there. Parallel to the buffet was a grand fireplace, that contained a roaring fire. The darkly colored walls sported various painting and decorations, also caricatures of previous important men in the family. Opposite the fireplace was two grand doors, the entrance into the room.

Once a month, Tywin Lannister required his immediate family to come to his estate for a feast. Not necessarily because he wanted to, but because he had to make sure no one was fucking up. Everyone had to be kept in line.

He, of course, sat at the head of the table, thanks to Ned Stark his left arm was now in a sling. The doctor almost got left in a roadside ditch for asserting that he needed one. His gray hair combed back as always, he wore a starch red sweater, black slacks, and brown leather shoes.

To his left sat Jaime and Cersei to his right, all of her children were with her. Typically, more people would be here. Namely, Kevan, but he was busy looking for his son.

Everyone attended to their food, all except for Tywin, who refused help to eat. He could barely move his arm without excruciating pain. The hunger was there, but there's no way he'd let someone feed him. That hadn't happened since he was a boy.

"Where's Tyrion?" He grumbled.

"Probably at a whore house," Cersei remarked, sipping on her wine.

No one denied it because they thought it was probably true.

These dinners were usually quiet affairs unless something was going on that needed attention. Tonight was one of those occasions.

"So," Jaime chewed. "Ned Stark is dead?" His attire was a red dress shirt and a black velvet blazer.

That did bring a smile to Tywin's face, a few things did.

"He is."

"Good riddance," Joffery raised his voice, next to his mother. "King's Landing will be a better place."

Joffery Baratheon was a known miscreant. He often did what he wanted, took what he wanted. Rarely did he hear the word, 'no'. This is made possible because his grandfather is Tywin Lannister. His golden locks waved just above his eyebrows, he wore a tan button up.

Tommen and Myrcella talked quietly amongst themselves.

"I respected Ned Stark," Twyin drawled. "But he had to go."

"Boorish man, I'd say," Cersei remarks. "Rather boring."

Jaime nodded, "Really can't say I was fond of the man either."

The doors to the dining hall swung open with such a force that a brisk breeze blew over the dinner table. Along came in the dwarf, Tyrion Lannister. Slightly drunk, shaggy hair looked even more unkempt than usual. Body covered in red leather, head to toe.

"Ah," he announced himself. "Hello, sorry I'm late." Strutting over next to Jaime, taking a seat by him.

Tywin grunted, "And where were you? A whorehouse?"

The imp rolled his eyes, "No, not today. Just running late, traffic was _horrid."_ His eyes moved down the table, examining all the wondrous food. Though he grabbed hold of an apple and took a bite. The crunch echoed throughout the room. He winked at Myrcella, who giggled and whispered something in Tommen's ear.

"Fashionably late," Jaime clapped Tyrion on the back. "As always."

Tyrion gestured to his father, "You get into a fight with a bellhop or something?" Noticing the sling.

"Ned Stark—"

Joffrey nearly lept out of his chair, cutting his grandfather off, "He's dead! Ned Stark is dead."

A genuine gasp left Tyrion's mouth, "Truly?"

"It is," Cersei smiles, cutting through her steak with more force than needed.

"What could possibly possess you to kill The King of The Block?" Tyrion scoffed.

"He'd got in my way," Tywin replies, confidently.

Tyrion bit off another chunk of the apple, "Isn't that frowned upon?"

"Matters not."

"What of the rest of the Stark family?"

"They will submit or die."

The juices of the apple lingered on Tyrion's chin, "You killed their father. Those boys will never forget that. They'll die long before they kiss your ring."

"So be it," Tywin said. "I have no qualms with erasing them completely."

Tyrion raises his eyebrows, "Well… I'm sure you've thought it all out." He relents.

"Of course he has," Joffrey scolded.

"I'm just saying, just because you sniped the neck of the snake, that doesn't mean it won't continue to slither around," Tyrion shrugged, eating more of the apple.

"What do you know of it?" Cersei flares at him.

"It's not complicated, you can't expect them to lay down for you. Their father is dead, they assume you did it and no one will convince them otherwise. Robb Stark—"

"Is with his father," Tywin finished for him.

"Huh? He's gone too?"

"I've been assured his wounds were fatal, he alluded my men at the hospital. Nevertheless, he should be long dead by now."

Jaime laughed, "A bullet to the chest kills most men."

"Oh… I see," Tyrion smiles. "You plan to take The Block. Now that both Ned Stark and his heir are gone. It's yours for the taking."

"You always were perspective," Tywin admits.

"But what about you killing Ned Stark and his son and all?"

"There's nothing that links me to the crimes."

"Hmm? I now assume you have that sling because of old Eddard?" Tyrion suggests. Twyin didn't respond in any way. "I'll take that as a yes. Did he twist your arm the wrong way? No, I doubt it came to fisticuffs." Tyrion laughed way more than he should about that last part. Imagining his father and Ned Stark fist fighting was very funny to him.

He slapped his thigh and bit his lip to keep the giggling back. He was the only one who found it funny. They all just stared at him. Tyrion choked down his laughter.

"Yes," Tyrion sighs, regaining his composure. "I heard about that shooting at the coffee shop, and then later at the hospital. On my way in here, I overheard some guards talking about Lancel. The Starks have him?"

"The bastard boy will return him unharmed," Tywin responds.

Tyrion ripped off another big chunk of the apple, he chewed with his mouth open, "You sure about that?"

"They wouldn't dare harm him. He's a Lannister, perhaps a weak boy, but a Lannister still," Tywin sat up in his chair.

"Ah! You may be right normally… but you just killed their father." Tyrion shrugged. "I'd bet your bottom dollar that boy is gone dead—"

There was about to be a retort when the doors to the opened up again. A man-servant came over to Tywin, gasping a wireless phone. He held it out, "Phone for you, sir."

Eyes still on Tyrion, Tywin took the phone and put it to his ear, "Yes?" The servant speed-walked out of the room like a live bomb was about to go off.

"Tywin Lannister?" A familiar voice.

The old man shot up from his chair, "Who is this?"

"You've forgotten my voice already? I think you know who this is."

Realization set in, "Oh, yes. The bastard Jon Snow, the drop off isn't set for Lancel yet."

Everyone stopped eating, completely silent as they watch Tywin leave the table.

"Yes, well. He's already been _dropped_ off."

Tywin scowled, "What in seven hells! What've you done?"

Tyrion smirked, knowing he was right about what happened. He slapped Jaime, and then whispered to him, "Our father severely underestimated the Starks, I'm right, you know it." Jaime showed no response as he looked back to his father.

"Listen here, boy! I'll—"

"You'll do nothing!" Jon cut him off. "It's already been done. 82 Gum Street, take a peek." He hung up after that.

Tywin let out a vocal groan, then he threw the phone against the wall, breaking it into a million pieces. The motion caused him a lot of pain because he cried out, clutching his arm. Cersei got up and came over to him quickly, putting her hands on his back.

"Leave me!" Tywin yelled. "I'm fine."

Cersei stepped back, hands up. Tywin righted himself, face red as the apple Tyrion's eating.

* * *

Before Jon made the call, Robb all but ran down the stairs to the basement. Lucky he didn't fall and break something.

Lancel sat exactly where he was left. At some point, he had woke back up while they were upstairs. He heard Robb coming before he saw him.

Grenn waited in the corner for someone to come back downstairs, he called out to Robb when he saw him. "You've come to rescue me?"

Robb laughs, "Not quite."

"P-please… let me go," Lancel cried.

"Typically, people don't judge a child by the sins of their fathers. Well… in your case, uncle.. But this isn't the typical situation," Robb explains.

Grenn moves to stand behind Lancel, who tried to turn his neck to see him, but to no avail.

"It's not you, Lancel. Honestly, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time," Robb told him. "Though now we're here. You tried to kill me. And, your names Lannister. Unfortunately for you, my hatred for your family has grown tenfold recently. And I can't bear the sight of you."

Grenn got right up behind Lancel, laying both hands on his shoulders.

"No! Please! I tell you anything!"

"Tsk tsk tsk… " Robb waves his index finger back and forth. "That time for that has passed. You had your chance to speak." He locked eyes with Grenn, then nodded firmly. "Make peace with your god, Lancel. Quickly."

Lancel cried out as Grenn wrapped an arm around his neck. That arm was braced at the elbow with a free hand. Lancel kicked and made what sounds he could which were mostly noises of spitting up and choking, as Grenn's arm tightened around his neck.

Lancel fought as much as he could but without the use of his hands. There wasn't much to do.

Robb watched the horror on Lancel's drift to slight unconsciousness and then to nothing.

Lancel's upper body lurched forward completely as Grenn let him go, strangled to death.

"Take a couple guys," Robb breathed. "Dump his body at 82 Gum Street… Then, go get yourself marked."

Grenn beamed, "Really?"

"Yeah, Grenn, you're one of us now."

* * *

"What happened?" Jaime asked his father.

Tywin turned from them, walking to stand in front of the fire. Not saying a word.

Cersei touched Joffrey on the shoulder, "Take your brother and sister, go play outside."

"I don't want to go!" Joffrey argues.

"And I don't care!" Cersei widens her eyes. "Go!" Pointing to the doors, beckoning in them out.

Joffrey wanted to argue more, but both his uncles glared at him. He stopped, pulling his siblings up. Following them out of the room.

As soon as the door slammed shut, Jaime repeated his question, "What happened?"

Tywin huffed, "I don't know."

"Well, what did he say?"

"The bastard said Lancel was dropped off."

"That's good then," Tyrion said.

"But what did they do to him?" Jaime wonders.

"I don't know," Tywin sighs.

"He didn't say?" Tyrion prodded.

"No!" Tywin raises his voice, still staring at the crackling fire.

Cersei fell back into her chair, instinctively reaching for her glass of wine, her only comfort. "What a mess," she whines, taking a sip.

"Quite," Jaime agrees.

"He's at 83 Gum Street. Jaime, grab some men and go take a look," Tywin directed.

At the command, without a word, Jaime rose from his chair and strutted out of the dining hall.

"Well," Tyrion bit into his apple yet again. "Appears I may have been correct."

"What are you talking about?" Cersei glared at him.

Tyrion snorted, "I was getting ready to say Lancel had been killed before that servant came in here… Based upon our dear father's response to that phone call, I feel like I was right."

"We don't know what happened to the boy," Tywin corrected him, still unmoving.

"I feel like Jon Snow saying, 'he's already been dropped off' before Lancel was supposed to be. That's a really bad sign for him," Tyrion sighed. It really was a saddening feeling, it washed over him. He could feel it, Lancel is dead.

* * *

It's wasn't hard to locate Lancel, once eyes were set on 83 Gum Street. The poor boy hung from a lamp post. Clothes tattered, beaten, bloody, bruised, utterly lifeless, Jaime had him cut down. Once he laid on the ground, they found a note stuck into his jacket pocket. Written on the bloody parchment: " _Lions shouldn't tarry near a Den of Wolves."_

He was taken to the morgue directly for an examination. There, some of his family gathered.

A bright room, pale white marble floors, walls a sandy yellow. Lancel lay on a metal table, covered in a sheet.

Kevan Lannister, Lancel's father, approached the table very slowly. Tywin and his lot standing behind him, everyone but the children. Wishing none of this to be real, all a dream, Kevan wished. Reluctantly, he moved the sheet from off Lancel's face to take a look at his son. They'd done their best to repair what was broken, but there wasn't much to do. By his face, it was quite clear he'd taken a heavy beating.

A doctor came over, "I'm so sorry for your loss." He said.

Kevan brushes his finger over his son's cheek. Eyes not leaving his battered face, "What happened to him?" He asked, voice full of emotion.

The doctor grimaced, "Your son took an intense beating. Several broken ribs, some punctured other organs, broken nose, cracked jaw. A little internal bleeding because of all that. His windpipe completely collapsed, I believe he was savagely strangled. I suspect that was a welcome release, he endured a lot of pain."

Kevan looked away as the tears became to come like a waterfall. "My boy… my first boy." He muttered to himself.

Tywin stepped up, "Leave us." He spoke to the doctor. Who nodded, then ducked out of the room.

"Who did this?" Kevan asked, to no one in particular.

"You know who did this," Tywin scoffed. "The Starks."

"If… it was them, then this is your fault," Kevan growled, craning his neck to look at his brother.

"Ha!" Tywin half-laughs. "You blame me for this?"

"You killed Ned Stark. Did you not? You started this," Kevan returns his eyes to Lancel. "They… killed him because of you."

"Please, father has nothing to do with this," Cersei defended.

"Don't be a dimwit," Kevan scowled. "Tywin has started a war."

"A war? I highly doubt it will come to that," Tywin replies.

"They did this to my son!" Kevan yelled, pounding his hand on the table. A loud clang filled the room, everyone stepped back. "To my son! My first boy!" He turned his whole body to regard them, eyes watering with salty tears. "If they'd do this to him, what the fuck do you think they'll do to you! Lancel has nothing to do with Ned's death, yet they murdered him nonetheless! Why? Because his name is Lannister!"

"You have every right to be angry—" Tyrion started.

But Kevan cut him off, "You're damn right I do!"

"Calm down, uncle," Cersei rolled her eyes.

Kevan gritted his teeth, "If you were wise you'd protect the rest of your family. I'll do so with the rest of mine."

"You're scared of a pack of wolves?" Jaime scolds.

"Yes… I am. After this, I will always be scared of wolves," Kevan lowered his tone, he settled his gaze back on Lancel. "Now… get out of here and focus on making them pay for this. Leave me with my boy. Now."

* * *

Jon hung up the phone, not sure where that new-found confidence came from. He laughed nervously.

"Holy fuck," he whispered to himself. Dropping his phone on Ned's desk, he had to grab the whiskey again. He started to pour it into his glass, but he shook his head and stopped. Deciding to drink directly from the bottle this time, taking down two gulps.

He picked the phone back up, scrolling through his contacts absentmindedly. A name caught his eye, _DT_. Furrowing his brow, forgetting who this way. Then he blamed his buzzed state, remembering its Daenerys Targaryen. For reasons he didn't know, he dialed her.

It rang three times before she picked up.

"Hello? Jon?"

"Oh! Uh… hey, Dany," Jon kicked himself at the awkwardness of his hello.

"Hi, Jon… did you forget that I told you I needed some time?"

Jon slapped his forehead, regretting making this call. "Umm… yeah, I'm sorry. I… I forgot."

Her laugh made him relax a bit, "It's okay. I guess you did give me a few hours," she said.

Jon smiles, "Damn… thanks for letting dodge that bullet."

"No problem," Jon could feel her responding smile through the phone. "So, why have you called anyway?" She added.

"Oh… I just needed to hear your voice."

"Is something wrong?"

"You haven't heard?"

"Is there something I should've heard about?"

Jon looked at his feet, "I suppose word hasn't made it to the city yet."

"Jon, What happened?" She could sense the melancholy in his voice.

The words didn't come when he wanted, harder to vocalize now for some reason. Breathing hard into the mouthpiece.

"I… my father… he — he died."

"Oh, Jon. I'm so sorry."

The tears weren't felt until they ran down Jon's face again. He wiped them on his shoulder.

"What happened to him?" She asked.

"We're… not sure yet," Jon tried to get himself under control. "He was shot at—" He hesitated to tell her much more.

"What was that last part?"

"Listen," Jon tried to change the subject. "I know you needed time. I hope you've had enough, 'cause I want to see you."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah… I know we kinda had a torrid start. I totally get it if you don't want to see me," Jon replied.

"Considering I killed three people last time I saw you. But… there's something about you. I can't get enough. I like you."

"You barely know me," she laughed.

"I know enough, the fact that you even answered my call tells me a lot."

"Jon, you saved my life. I'll never forget that."

He closed his eyes, "I killed—"

"You did want you had to," she told him. "I wouldn't be here right now if you weren't there." She didn't say anything after that for a while, a long silence hung between them.

"I like you too," she continues. "But there's a lot about me you don't know. I've got… a dark past. The kind of stuff other guys are put off by."

"I don't care about any of that. It doesn't matter what it is."

She exhaled, "You don't have any idea what I'm talking about."

"How about you tell me all about it over dinner? Tomorrow night?" Jon tried to sound confident.

She seemed to be thinking it over, based upon another span of no response. Jon feared she would decline.

"Okay, Jon Snow. I'd love to."

* * *

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **PLEASE leave a review, so I at least know someone is reading this. It also helps with motivation.**


	12. Reaper in your Dreams

**Chapter 12: Reaper in your Dreams**

* * *

In the morning, Tywin demanded all the Leaders meet at The Block. After the death of the King, this is the typical behavior. He arrived first, he considered taking Ned's chair but decided against citing it's in poor taste despite his hatred for the man. Instead, taking his seat at the other end of the table.

One by one, everyone funneled in, no one spoke until everyone was present, just took their respective seats. Ned's death was really the reason for the meeting, but Twyin had other ideas.

He stood, "As you all know, we lost Ned late last night. I—"

Jeor spoke to interject, "It was you. Wasn't it?"

Tywin glared at him, Olenna's voices herself next, "Though he was found at Bolton's penthouse, I'm told." All eyes set on Roose and Tywin.

Robert grumbled, taking the death of a dear friend in own way. What else? With drink.

"I'd like an explanation," he said. "The both of you, before we speak of anything else."

"Must you all accuse me?" Twyin sighed. "I wasn't there."

Oberyn laughs, "Do you take us for fools?"

Jeor sniffled, retrieving a thick cigar from his jacket. "We all know you hated him. So… when we hear of his death, and that he was shot? You expect us to believe you had nothing to do with it?" He lit the cigar and huffed on it. "And what about that _fucking_ sling you got on there?"

"I… fell in the shower. These old bones don't do well with excessive force," he managed a weak smile. "And I admit nothing, there's no proof I was there."

"Ah…. but you know who we are for sure was?" Olenna said, then pointed at Roose. "That man there. I'd like to hear what he has to say about all this, considering Ned died on his damned carpet."

Roose crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes flashed to Tywin for a second. There had been some conversation between the two of them prior, Tywin had primed him for his. They considered that this situation may happen.

He sighed, "I'm sure you've heard about the little scuffle Ramsay and Ned's bastard boy got into. Because of this, I called Ned. Asked him to come to my penthouse, I wanted to talk it out with him. We've had our differences in the past, but I wanted to get past this childishness. We sat down, had a drink… I tried to work it out. Though Ned wasn't having it. Things got heated, he pulled a gun on me. What was I supposed to do? Let him kill me?"

Oberyn scoffed, "You shot the man four times. Over what? A misunderstanding?"

"I told you, he pulled a gun."

"I've known Ned a very long time," Jeor sucked on his cigar, exhaling a lot of smoke. "I've never noted him to be quick to violence. Ever."

Robert nodded, "Ned was the most honorable man I've ever known. I'm a piece of shit… I know it. But Ned wasn't. I was his friend."

"I don't believe your story for one second," Olenna scoffed.

"You don't have to believe it!" Roose sat up. "It's what happened."

"Tywin, you can swear up and down that you had nothing to do with his killing all you want," Jeor scowled. "I'll never believe you." He waved his cigar at him. After that, he glared at Roose, "Bolton, you ignorant fuck, I know you're lying. The two of you are cohorts, we all know it. I wouldn't be surprised if half of the people in this damned room were in on it."

Walder, Euron, and Viserys all avoided the gaze of everyone in the room.

Jeor noticed this, he tipped the brim of his flat cap up, "Ah… so a conspiracy then? Mutiny?"

"You have Ned's boy killed too?" Olenna asked Tywin. "What's his name again? Oh… Robb. You kill him too? You want this building that bad. The Block?"

Tywin bit his lip, "That was… unfortunate. With the boy, he happened to be in the wrong place in absolute wrong time."

"Wasn't that the Goblins?" Jeor added. "Last time I checked, those boys were employed by old Walder there." He pointed his cigar at him.

Walder didn't deny it, "Only the best for me, like always, they were there for the money in the register. I wish I could speak with my boys about that incident. But most of those guys are dead, so."

"Lemme sees if I got this right," Oberyn chuckled. "Tywin had Roose kill Ned, and had Walder kill the boy. So he could have The Block. He tried to stay as far away as possible, so he couldn't be implicated."

"All speculation at best," Tywin spat. "You have nothing-"

The door swinging open silenced the whole room, no one entered for a few moments. Suddenly, a man stepped through the doorway. He wore an all black, fitted suit, an overcoat draped over his shoulders. His thick auburn curls were shaggy, like always, yet combed back, beard trimmed.

He breathed a heavy sigh, "So good of you all to get started without me." All eyes on him widened, no one thought they'd ever see him again.

"Robb Stark," Jeor rose from his chair. Sticking his hand out in greeting, "We thought you were dead."

"Yes, well, reports were vastly mistaken," Robb replied, taking Jeor's hand. "Though he did try to kill me."

"He?"

Robb eyed Tywin, whose face could only be described as pure astonishment. He had no intentions of having to see Robb ever again. He just kept blinking like there was something in his eye. The sight of him made him angry, and very disappointed. He'd kill that man for lying to him.

"I think we all know who it was," Robb smirked, he went to stand by in his father's old chair. He ran his hands over the back of it, then he took off his coat and laid on the table. Everyone just kept staring at him, "What? All of you look like you've seen a ghost."

Tywin frowned, "We are."

Jon entered the room now, wearing a pale grey suit. He had his hair tied back in a small tie behind his head, "We didn't appreciate not getting an invite to this," he said. He moved to stand behind Robb.

"What were all of you talking about?" Robb asked the room.

"You, and your father," Jeor responded.

"Hmm… my father," Robb huffed, sitting down. "I miss him already."

"You had my nephew killed," Tywin said out of nowhere. "You strangled him and hung him from a light post."

Robb shrugged, "What you expect me to do? Give him back to you? After what you've done?"

"Don't even deny it," Jon chimed in. "We know it was you."

Tywin clenched his jaw, "Where's your proof?"

"I don't need any proof," Robb seethed. "You and Roose did it."

"Good to see Dad at least left you something to remember him by," Jon added, motioning to Twyin's sling.

"Let's skip formalities," Robb sat back in his chair, relaxing. "The Block is mine. My father named me his heir, despite Tywin's two attempts on my life." He held up two fingers for emphasis, "I'm still here. With my father passed on, it's mine by right. No one can deny me."

Tywin faced reddened as he growled, "You can't."

"I can and I will. Y'know what the first thing I will do? I want blood," Robb raised his voice, sitting back up. "Your blood, Roose's blood. Anyone who had a part in it."

"Dangerous claim, boy," Walder called out.

"I don't give a fuck… And don't call me boy," Robb aimed a finger at him.

"We talked about an investigation yet?" Jon demanded of the people.

Olenna shrugged, "We were getting there. I was getting ready to say; all will come to light once the _investigation_ starts."

Viserys leaned forward, "Investigation?"

"Oh? You don't know?" Olenna laughed at him. "A King is dead. But how were not so sure of yet... this means a separate inspection of the incident takes place. I'm sure you planned for this…" She looked at Tywin. "You already have someone in mind I suspect?"

He nodded, "The Hound."

"One of your dogs?" Jon scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I suspect not. That man says and does as you tell him. Your choice will not be the one."

"Who then?"

"Davos Seaworth," Jon says, plainly.

"Seaworth?" Tywin laughs. "He's been retired for years."

"Exactly why he's the best choice, he's impartial to the whole thing. He doesn't know what's been going on."

"I agree," Robb concurred.

"Then it's so," Jon smirked.

"You deny him one of his own, yet you speak of one of yours?" Roose pointed out. "You are well acquainted well Seaworth."

"So what if I have a relationship with him? I never paid the man for killing a man or to turn a blind eye," Jon spat.

"Goddammit," Tywin stood up, gritting his teeth. "You can't just come in here, boy. Boss us around. We've been doing this longer than you've been alive."

"You deaf, Tywin?" Robb rose to meet him, eye to eye. "The Block is mine. There might as well be a crown on my head. Sure you tried but in vain. You killed my father, though you missed the mark with me."

"By a few inches," Euron mutters.

"What was that?" Robb flares his nostrils, glaring at him.

"He missed the mark by a few inches," Euron spoke up. "Well, whoever shot you."

Robb regarded him for a second before looking back to Tywin, "All will come to light. Davos will find you out. He can't be bought or bribed. You all will submit to him, any question he asks or anything he needs you will provide."

"Or what?" Roose quips. "You may be King. But we don't respect you. Order us around all you want, we don't have to do shit."

"You're right, I can't really _make_ you do anything. But I do have power now, and I can do with it whatever I want. Trust me, you don't want to be in my way."

"You don't have any idea what you doing," Tywin shook his head. "The Block would be in better hands with anyone else."

"You only mean yourself," Jon spoke. "You only care about yourself, you and your damned family name."

"What else is there? Legacy is all that matters," Tywin said. "Mine will last longer than all the rest, written on stone."

"What legacy? What does your name ride on now? With the imp? Someone you'd rather see left to die if he wasn't your son. Jaime? We all know he only has eyes for his sister."

Robert was listening for once, "What are you talkin' bout?" Everyone knew there was little love between him and Cersei, still, hearing something about her and her brother piqued his interest. Of course, there have been rumors of them, though no real proof.

In reality, Jaime and Cersei had birthed three children. They've done well to hide the whole thing so far. Passing them off as Robert's, who really had no idea about the actual origins of his own supposed children.

Tywin answered quickly, "Nothing, Robert, rumors with little to no merit, it's nonsense."

"Perhaps," Robb stroked his beard. "Perhaps not."

Tywin raged, opening his mouth but he bit it back. Trying to regain his composure, it didn't look like he had the ability.

"Oh, please Tywin, say it. Spit it out," Robb pleaded sarcastically.

Tywin turned his nose up like he smelled a dead body. "I'll kill you. The both of you," his eyes widened with fury as he said it.

Robb cocked his head to the side, "Is that a threat?"

"Yes, of course, it is. You know what a threat is?"

"If it's war you want, you'll have it."

Tywin smirked, with a small laugh, "You declare it? Do you declare war?" Everyone else's eyes sort of widened.

Jon put his hand on Robb's shoulder, whispering in his ear. They appeared to have a small argument before Robb waved him off. He was trying to explain to him what 'declaring war' actually meant. Basically, if two or any amount families declare war on each other, they consent to opening hostilities. This means there won't be any meetings of the family's until the disagreement is settled. Typically, leaders side with other leaders, loyalties are questioned. All of this leads to open warfare in the streets. There hasn't been war in a very long time, but everyone felt it would happen again.

Robb glared at Tywin, blotting everyone else out. He spoke clearly and confidently. "I'll let the investigation take place. If the outcome isn't to my liking, bet your ass I'm gonna declare all kinds of things. One of those will be war, yes."

He wanted nothing more to declare war on the Lannister. But he had no proof of Tywin's wrong-doing.

There was a collective sigh of relief throughout the room, war is very bad for business. Most of the money that comes in daily stops because everyone's focused on not dying.

During war within The Block, all bets are off. Anything is legal because it's war. Of course, there's still the unspoken rules. There shouldn't be all killing of women and children, but somehow there is anyway.

"I'm surprised at your restraint," Said Olenna. "If it were me…" she leaned forward beginning to whisper, "I'd have tried to kill him long before now."

Her and Robb exchanged a knowing look as Jon stepped up to speak, "Our father's service will be held here, next week, open casket if you wish to pay your final respects."

"Why here?" Robert spoke up. "Why not at Winterfell? Why not in his own home?"

"Because I'd rather not have some of you traipsing around my estate," Robb sighed. "Better that it be here." Not looking at anyone in particular but they knew who they were. "It's my father… it's my decision."

"No one will argue that," Olenna sighed.

Tywin's eyes scanned the room, "I think we're done here," he said, standing up.

All eyes on him, Robb spoke, "Go if you want, I don't care. But we aren't done yet."

"You really are a disrespectful sniveling boy," Tywin short back.

"Careful," Robb warned. "Now get the fuck outta here."

Tywin's lip twitched, he pinched the bridge of his nose before he replied, "I will enjoy ending you. You have made an enemy today."

"Ah… well, you made your decision when you killed my father. Besides, it goes both ways," Robb grinned. "Don't forget me, remember my face," he pointed his thumb at his cheek. " _I'm the Reaper in your Dreams,_ you'll choke on the thought of me."

Tywin didn't respond, his face only reddened with anger again. His free hand clenched into a fist, fingernails digging into his palm. He slowly left the room, glaring at Robb with furious anger. Roose followed him soon after.

"The lovers leave together," Jeor scoffed, putting his cigar out on his boot.

Walder and Euron got up, walking out at the same time.

Viserys shrugs, rising from his chair, "Tywin's right. Anybody would be better than you," looking directly at Robb and then Jon. "That father of yours didn't deserve this place."

Jon got in his face as soon as the words left Viserys' mouth. "Watch your mouth, if not for our father. You wouldn't be here. He was the one who you saved you. Saved your whole family," Jon was so close to his face that their noses almost touched. Viserys retreated back.

"Get the fuck outta here, Viserys," Robb commanded.

"I did want to strangle you, boy," Robert told the Targaryen. "It was Ned that stopped me."

Viserys cowered, In three steps, he was out of the room.

Oberyn rose from his chair, "You see… I also hate the Lannisters. You have nothing to fear from me. Especially if our… business continues?"

Jon nodded, "Our business will continue."

The drug dealings were nasty. But they provide money that the Starks are going to need moving forward.

Oberyn smiles, shaking both Robb and Jon's hands before he left just the same.

Jeor rested his hands on his hips, "Ned and I have been friends for a while. I have no reason not to help out his two sons. Plus, the Lannisters make my skin crawl."

"Thanks, Jeor," Robb replies.

"Ned was my oldest friend," Robert smiled, thinking of the good old days. His countenance faded, "But I don't know where I said on this whole battle between you boys and the Lannisters."

"You won't help us?"

"I don't know yet," Robert shook his head. With effort, he pushed his chair back and rose. On his way out he poured himself a glass of scotch.

"Don't worry about him, he'll come around," Jeor said as he left.

Jon looked to Olenna, "Where do you stand on all this?"

She stood, "My family has been around a very long time, and I would like us to continue to exist. It's easy to tell that this fight will leave a lot of bodies in its wake. Usually, families have to pick a side, staying out of the fray is never an option because the family that wins will always suspect you after that… As it stands, I don't have a clue who will win, not for sure at least. I know the Lannisters have a lot of money around them, and plenty of experience. And you two aren't a day over twenty, you have zero experience in a fight like this."

"We know we need help," Jon hung his head for a moment. "We'd like your support."

"I liked Ned Stark. He was an honorable man… but I have no reason to back you."

"What—"

Olenna held her hand up, "Choosing the right side is paramount, and right now the two of you are on center stage with your fly down. I have to choose the right side, as I said. The Starks don't look it right now."

"You'd side with them? The Lannisters?" Jon asked, stunned.

"It's not you," said Olenna. "My dislike for Tywin Lannister doesn't matter. What matters is he'll win." She went to the door.

"What if I marry your granddaughter?" Robb suggested.

She stopped dead, "Margaery?" Turning back to them, "Why would I let you marry her?"

"I realize my position. I have to produce an heir," Robb brushes over his cheek, hesitant. "I like her. We've talked."

"Talked?" Olenna chuckled. "You think I don't know you met her already?"

Robb's face turned a bright red, and he exchanged a look with Jon, who just shrugged. "I suspected as much." He said.

"So now you think I'd let my only granddaughter marry you? The losing side? Which would mean her life? What's stopping me from giving her to Tywin's nephew?"\

Robb scoffed, "You'd give your precious granddaughter to Joffery?"

"I wouldn't like it. But I'd do it for the survival of my family," she defended.

Jon stepped up, "We won't lose. How do you know? The fighting hasn't even begun."

"Who knows? Maybe there won't be a fight, perhaps Davos will discover the truth. Twyin and whoever helped him are found out. My violence will be justified. They won't be able to retaliate, it'll be justice," Robb adds.

"You think Margaery wants you?"

"Why don't you ask her?"

"Maybe I will."

"You should," Robb smiles, laying his hands on the table.

Olenna waved her hand at them as she left.

Jon breathed heavy and swallowed hard, his confidence washing away. Returning to the typical, brooding, sad, regular every day Jon that's normally around.

"You sure we can win?"

Robb stared at his brother, putting a hand over his heart, feigning a wound. "No faith?"

"I have faith, brother," Jon rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't have faith in that we are ready."

"Believe in the plan, it's the right plan," Robb got up and went to the liquor cart. This time, he got out a bottle of vodka. He held it up as if to ask Jon if wanted some.

"Yeah… pour me one. Anyway, what exactly is our plan?"

Robb came back with two hefty glasses of vodka and ice. Jon took one of them greedily.

"Well…" Robb took a sip. "We kill Tywin."

"That's not a plan," Jon took a deep breath. "That's a result of the plan. Tywin dead is what we want, but how do we accomplish that?"

Robb shrugged, "Put a bullet in his face."

Jon half-laughed, "You're missing the fucking point, dammit."

"Then what is the point?" Robb retorted, frustrated.

"The point is we can't just shoot him," Jon sighed out. "Number one, that's to quick for a man like that, and two we have to cripple him first. We'd never have a chance until then."

"Cripple him?" Robb inquires.

"Take everything away from him, his business, namely, anything he controls that brings money in. We have to shut off all the flow of money he wants to use against us. Once that's done, hopefully, some of his people will desert him because they aren't getting their pay any more," Jon explains.

"Think of this way," Jon continues. "You don't want to eat raw venison. You can but it doesn't taste as good, and maybe you'll get sick. But… if you roast it up, prepare it well, the eating of it is much more satisfying."

"Meaning?"

"We could pay a guy to shoot the man on his way to the shitter, but where's the satisfaction in that? I want to watch the light leave his eyes, enjoy the hunt. Dad always said a deer you killed yourself tasted much better than one you bought. We take everything from Tywin, and when he's at his weakest, we tear him up, root and stem."

Robb held his glass up, "You always were the smarter one."

Jon dinged his glass against Robb's, "That's why they pay me the big bucks."

* * *

Little else was thought of other than his upcoming date with Daenerys, thankfully, he had nothing else to do today.

They had exchanged a few texts about when they would meet. Jon has offered to pick her up but she declined. Rather preferring that they meet at the restaurant, which one she didn't care. Jon had thought long and hard about where they should go, even asked Robb of it. Unfortunate that Bolton's owned and controlled a lot of the food industry in Kings Landing.

In the end, he decided they should go to a fancy place, called _Corina's._ Named after a portly woman from the North, the founder's mother. Originally a smaller establishment, but Jeor Mormont had invested in the place many years ago. Renovated the whole place, it now had a more prestigious look about the place, as opposed to its tinier genesis. They were able to hire more employees, for more help. Jeor took care of anything they needed. Merely because they served him the best steak he'd ever had and he wanted to say he owned the place that had the finest steak in the city.

Jon knew they'd be safe from judgment there, and prying eyes. He knew whether or not he wanted it, word would get out he had a date with Daenerys. But maybe if they were in a safe place they'd have time before it happened.

Despite her want to make her own way to the restaurant, Jon drove himself. Being that _Corina's_ was now quite the popular eatery, he had to park about a block and a half away. He thought he'd wait for her out front, so there he stood. They'd agreed they would meet here at eight o'clock. He stared at his wristwatch, realizing he was ten minutes early he sighed in relief.

 _Corina's_ sat by its lonesome on the street, at its conception, the whole place shared the building with a dentist and a cobbler. When Jeor bought in, he also bought out the other owners of those businesses. Gave them each a handsome amount of money to move out and go elsewhere. Nowadays, those people had places of their own.

With all the new floor space, Jeor knocked them out an area for a full kitchen and a much larger place for customers to sit.

The outside was kept simple, a neon sign that carried the name. A glass door that resided the times of operation.

Jon watched as a taxi pulled up, he readied himself as Daenerys stepped out.

She wore a light purple dress that hung down just above her knee. Held up by thin straps of the same shade, it looked tight but not uncomfortable. Her hair hung down over her shoulders like he just saw her. Those same platinum blonde locks that Jon desperately wanted to run his hands through. She carried a small purse that she clutched tightly to herself, yet she retrieved some money out of it to the pay the cab driver.

He smiled brightly as she stepped closer to him, "You look radiant," he admired.

She blushed, "You're just saying that."

Now, Jon was able to eye that the dress matched her eyes in a way. Which completely hypnotized him. He's also surprised that she wore very little makeup because she didn't need it, he decided.

Her attire made him look like the half-breed he really was. After much debate, he settled an on a fitting black suit, with accompanying shiny, pointed dress shoes. His white button-up was left undone at the top, just a couple unclasped, revealing a few shear chest hairs. Robb had forced him to put on cologne even though he loathed it. Just like at the meeting his hair kept back in a small tie.

"I'm really not though," Jon couldn't stop smiling. "You always look this good?"

"Hardly," She giggles. "You should see me after I get out of bed." Motioning to her head, "This hair is all over the place."

Jon smirked, considering making a lewd comment. But he figured it would probably be to forward.

He pointed his thumb to the door, "Shall we?"

Daenerys nods, "We shall."

Opening the door for her, Jon said, "I've eaten here a few times, best steak on the planet if you ask me."

She looked back at him as the entered, "Hmm… sounds good."

They came to a woman standing behind a podium, she greeted them warmly, "Table for two?"

"Yes, Please," Jon replies. "I called ahead. Under Jon?"

The woman lit up, "Oh? Yes of course… We're ready for you. Please follow me."

She leads them into a quieter section of the dining area. In fact, no one was there but them. The woman opened her arm to a table in the literal center of the room. Jon pulled out Dany's chair for her and pushed her in once she sat. Once both of them were seated, the woman said, "Someone will be with you promptly."

Jon examines his surroundings, there were tables around them, just no people. Brightly painted walls were synonymous with the rest of the room. Everything seemed light and pleasant, all the tables were candle lit. Even theirs, a small candle sat in the middle of it, the regular assortment of typical dinnerware in front of them. Headlights and street lights beamed in through a few windows on the wall closest to them. Jon had to admit the air felt different in here than anywhere else he'd been.

He locked eyes with Dany and sort of shrugged, "You like it?"

"I do. This seems nice."

A waitress appeared out of nowhere, "Hi, my name is Raine, I'll be serving you today."

Raine surprised them both, her sudden announcement of her presence startled them slightly. But all that washed away when they notice her pleasant countenance and apparent innocence. She had dirty blonde hair, tied back in a ponytail. Wearing a black button up, with a supporting pair of black shoes and pants, a half apron tied around her waist.

"Can I offer the two of you some wine perhaps? I know we just got in a batch of some Dornish red from Essos recently, positively divine if I do say so myself."

"That'd be wonderful, thank you," Dany spoke up with an equally happy grin.

"I'll be right back," Raine sped off.

"She's chipper," Jon remarked, raising his eyebrows.

"That she is... So this isn't too much?"

"No, this is wonderful," she shook her head.

Jon leaned back, "I put a lot of thought into where we should go. I wanted it to be perfect."

Dany gave me another one of those smiles. He really did love it when she did that.

"It is perfect," she told him.

Raine came back carrying a platter, from it she brought down two wine glasses and the bottle itself, and two menus for them. She opened the bottle of wine and poured healthy portions into their waiting glasses.

"Please do enjoy the wine, and take a look at our menu," Raine said. "I'll be back in a little to check on you."

Dany swished the wine around, taking in the scent. Clearly knowing a thing or two about this sort of thing, Jon realized. However, he really had no clue why she was doing that. Wine really wasn't his thing, he considered it to be quite nasty actually. But he wouldn't dare waste this opportunity.

He watched intently as she took a tentative sip of the liquid squashed grapes. Waiting for her reaction before he did the same, she bit her lip.

"It's good, very good," she said finally. Not hesitating a second longer to take in another sip.

Reluctantly, Jon brought the lip of the glass to his lips. He did his best to imitate her smelling technique but had no real idea why. Eventually, he tasted the contents. It was tart, though in the best way possible, burning his throat as it went down.

Dany set her wine aside as she picked the menu up to see want she wanted, though she asked, "Like it?"

Jon held the reflective chalice up to the light, "I must say I do. Under normal circumstances, I'd never partaken in such a drink. I prefer… harsher alcohols, yet, I do like this."

"Liquor drinker?"

"Anything drinker," Jon corrected. "But that hadn't meant wine, mostly whiskey, vodka, scotch, beer, a good ale maybe, and mixed drinks. Maybe I'll consider it next time I'm feeling down."

Jon saw Raine coming back over Dany's shoulder, it was then realized he hadn't even looked at the menu. Luckily, Raine asked his date first, "What'll you have, sweetie?"

"Umm… I think I'll go with the cod," Dany responded, handing Raine the menu.

"Excellent choice," Raine nodded. Taking the menu, she turned to Jon, "And you?"

He wanted to branch out, but nothing stood out to him. So, tried and true as always good, "Just the steak, cooked well," he said.

"With pleasure," Raine took his menu and scurried off.

"Alright, now that we'll have a bit of peace," Jon cleared his throat. "What should we talk about first?"

"I feel like you already know so much about me, but I don't know all that much about you," she reached for the wine.

"What do you wanna know? I'm an open book."

She leaned forward, he did the same.

"Well, I know you're a…" her voice trailed off.

" _Bastard_ ," Jon said for her. "It's okay. You can say it. I've heard the word hundreds of times, it doesn't hurt me anymore."

"I'm sorry—"

"No, really, it's fine, forget it," Jon waves it off.

"Okay… so do you know your mother?"

"Nope," Jon sighs. "I never knew who she was. Now with my Dad gone…"

She stretched out to take one of his hands, he was glad for this.

"I'm so sorry, Jon."

He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting his emotions from coming back up. When he opened them after a while, he noticed her staring at him with worry in her own gaze.

They continued to stare into each other's eyes, it happened to be now that Jon knew for sure how badly he wanted to kiss her.

"This helps. Us, together, right now," he tried to smile. "It does. Thanks so much for coming."

He wished the moment to last much longer but out of nowhere, she recoiled from him. Retreating back into herself, her gaze wandered away from him.

His brow furrowed, "Is something wrong?"

"I…" she failed to get the words out.

Jon then understood, remembering when she had done a similar thing way back when they first met. She did mention her 'baggage' when they talked on the phone. Jon wondered what exactly she meant by that.

The gears slowly started to turn in his head, "I can tell you have had some kind of ugly experiences. I'm dull to people's feelings all the time but it's plain to see with you. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I won't force you. I just want to be there for you, unlike whoever obviously wasn't for you. What I can say… again we've only known each other for a very small amount of time, I know. But Daenerys Targaryen can work through whatever is your carrying around with you, I can help you… if you want. I'll protect you, as opposed to whatever asshole you had last." Jon's eyes scanned over her arms and neck for signs of abuse.

"I would never hurt you, not ever," he tried to reassure her.

She put out a weak smile, "I believe you… it's just… there's a lot you don't know."

"As I said, you don't have to tell me. If you don't want to… I'd like to know, though. So I can understand, it's hard to understand without knowing nothing of what if you are struggling with," Jon felt like he was stumbling over his words and saying the completely wrong things. He sensed things going south, "But we don't have to talk about that now. Let's change the subject, ask me something else."

She nodded, thankful for the excuse to stop thinking of what had happened to her. Her willingness to work through it had helped, and especially her friend Missandei had been a godsend. The memories just came back to the forefront of her mind more often than she'd like.

"I've heard that the Stark children have… wolves?"

Jon licked his lips, "Yes, they do. I do as well. Mine is named Ghost, a big white one, though he's just a big goofball. You see.. wolves are pretty attached to their owners, and we have a special connection."

"Oh… he sounds wonderful. I wish I could have something like that," She longed for such a companion.

"What'd you mean?"

"Well… Viserys doesn't like dogs or cats for that matter. He sort of has the final decision on these matters, I can't have one if he doesn't want me to."

"That's silly," Jon laughs like it was a joke, but choked it down when he realized she wasn't making fun. "You're serious?"

"I am."

"Why's he get to be like that? You are just as much Targaryen as he is."

"He's older than me."

"So? Robb is a bit older than me but if I wanted a cat I'd get one. He wouldn't bat an eye."

"It's different with Viserys."

"I get that feeling, pardon me but he seems like an ass."

She widened her eyes, calling Viserys such a name would bring down heaven and hell on her. When she realized she wasn't anywhere near her brother, a giggle left her lips. But she covered her mouth right after, trained against such things.

Jon rocked back, noticing this. She even looked to ready herself to be struck, cowering back down intro herself again. The thought of Viserys being harmful towards her made his blood boil.

"He doesn't hurt you? Viserys?"

His voice snapped her back to reality, "What?"

Jon wouldn't press further in case it ruined their whole night, though he made a mental note of Viserys.

He slapped his forehead nevertheless, feeling ashamed he had already made her feel uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I've been interrogating you this whole time."

To his surprise, she smirked, returning to her usual self, "Most first dates are a lot like interrogations, or so I hear."

Jon gasped quietly, "You've never been on a date before? I find that hard to believe."

"It's true, this my first."

"Truly?"

She nodded slowly, "I've been in… relationships. But I've never actually been on a real date. Not really."

Jon was stunned. A girl like this, as pretty as she was. Had never been asked on a date before? More than anything he wanted to press on her what her past was, but he decided against it.

"I feel honored to take you on your first date," he said. "I hope by the end you don't regret it."

She frowned, "Why would I?"

"I feel as if I've made you uncomfortable so far," he confessed. "Which hasn't been my intentions—"

She held her hand up, "Enough of that, you've been quite the gentleman, your reactions have been… it's only natural to ask questions. I understand there may be a lot of cloudiness around me, my past. A fool could see I have a messy one. I don't keep that a secret, I can't help but show it sometimes. What I do keep to myself is the actual events that took place. Few people actually know what I've been through… unfortunately, it's… difficult for me to unearth. Talking about it makes it real, you see."

"I can even begin to understand whatever it is you've seen and experienced," said Jon. "I just… want to be different than what you've had. I want to show you that there's a _difference_ between that and me."

"I can already see that you're vastly different from the others," she uttered matter-of-factly.

Jon exhaled like he'd been holding his breath since they sat down, then he smiled.

"That's very good to hear."

As if on cue, Raine returned toting a platter with their food atop it.

"The cod," she placed a beautiful plate of fish in front of Dany.

"And the steak," a familiar slab of meat was laid under Jon's eyes.

"Thank you, Raine," Jon beamed.

Raine grins, "I'll be back after a while to check on you." Then she took off yet again.

"Ooh… this looks excellent," Dany cooed, picking up her utensils.

"It's always good here," Jon told her.

They both took a few moments to cut into their respective dishes. Each sectioning off a healthy first bite, the pair shared a collective moan. Which made Jon get chills down his arms, he wished that might happen again but under totally different circumstances.

Wanting to speak of more pleasant things, Jon said, "So, what do you like to do for fun?"

"Fun?"

"You're aware of the term?"

She stuck her tongue out at him, "I know what the word means, Jon. I… don't really have an answer though."

"You don't like to have fun?"

She half-laughed, "Oh my goodness, Jon. Of course, I like to have fun."

"Well, What is fun for you?"

She was silent for several moments, in the meantime, Jon sliced off another chunk of his steak and put it in his mouth.

"Reading," she said finally. "I like to read."

"What about?"

"Anything. A good fiction or history."

"Oh, I see… you like to read of your family history," Jon nodded with assurance.

Dany seemed to almost leap out of her chair, "Does it not interest you? Aegon the Conqueror—"

"Built planes and few them all over Westeros, dropping bombs on all the unwilling to bend the knee," Jon finished the sentence like he'd memorized the words.

She frowned, cutting into her fish again, "You don't like the story? It's the history of our city, our country."

"I've just heard it a thousand times is all," Jon replies.

"Well, what do _you_ like to do for fun?" Dany asked him.

It surprised Jon that he also was unable to identify something that he did for fun. His mind went utterly blank. Daenerys noticed.

"Not so easy is it?" She teased.

Jon laughed, "I guess not."

"So…" Dany chewed. "At the hospital, I kind of got the feeling that you and your brother Robb are rather close. Is it like that with all your siblings despite… your status?"

"Yeah, my siblings and I are pretty close, thank the Gods. Though Robb is my _real_ brother, technically my half-brother but we don't look at it that way. I've got Bran and Rickon but they're still so young, I can't connect with them so much. I and Arya have been the close too, but in a different way then Robb. Sansa… she wasn't nice to me at first, thankfully recently she's started to be better. Anyways, Robb and I have always been close even though Catelyn has been against it."

"What you mean?"

"Well… Robb is my father's trueborn son. I am not. I don't know for sure but I get the feeling she doesn't want me 'sullying' him with my bastardness. Or maybe she thinks I'm a challenge to father's inheritance."

"That's mean," she frowned at the thought.

"She often tried to separate us, tried to send me away a few times."

"Send you away?"

Jon didn't typically divulge this information to anyone really, but for some reason, he felt he could speak with her in confidence.

"Yeah… she often annoyed Father about me. Didn't want me around at all. This one time… Dad wasn't in town, she had full reign of the house. She took this opportunity to send me away. My siblings fought and kicked for me but all for naught. I was gone for a few weeks when Father returned and he sent for me immediately. Though it wasn't as bad as I expected, I made some friends. You remember Grenn, Sam, and Pyp?"

"Sure," she nodded. Finding it hard to forget anything that happened in that hallway.

"Okay, So… where I went, it was at The Wall."

She knew it, "The Nights Watch?"

"The very same."

In this world, The Nights Watch was an organization that took in young and old bastards, runaways, rapers and thieves alike. Usually, people were taken there by force. There they were sent to be rehabilitated or changed. Oftentimes certain people who committed serious crimes like murder, if they happened to be accused of several murders. That person would undergo procedures unknown to the public. But we're known to be quite vile and violating.

Catelyn sent him there merely because she hated him and hoped he'd stay there forever for all she cared. Sent Grenn too, he'd been lingering around the house around this time.

Fortunately, Grenn and Jon weren't there long enough to really be changed or heavily affected. It was there that Jon met Sam and Pyp as well. When Ned came for Jon, he insisted that they all come back with him.

Ned complied, and when he returned to Kings Landing with four boys Catelyn only grew angrier. But this time Ned forbade her from doing anything like that ever again.

Jon had told Dany the basic gist of that.

Raine came back for the plates, "Good?" She asked.

"Divine," Dany said.

"Best steak in the city," Jon added. "Please bring the check when you come back."

"Oh," Raine smiles. "No need, It's on the house."

Jon shook his head, "No way. I can't let-"

Raine interjected, "It's fine, really. We want to."

Jon exhaled heavily, "Really?"

Raine just nodded her head, "Can I get you anything else?"

Dany looked at Jon, they had a non-verbal conversation. Deciding they were both satisfied.

"I think we're good," Jon said. "Thank you."

This time, Raine picked up the plates and walked away much slower than she had before. She even looked back at them like she was contemplating something, but she kept walking.

"Shall we go?" Jon asked his date.

"Yes, I believe so."

Jon got quickly to get her chair, helping her up. They headed towards the door.

Utter bewilderment washed over Jon as Dany snaked her fingers into his palm. The two of them hadn't properly touched yet, it felt good. Her thumb brushed over the top of his hand, the sensation sent shivers down his spine.

Because of this, he was bashfully unaware of the lone man that followed them down the street after they left _Corina's._

* * *

 **Thanks for reading.**

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	13. Fury in His Eyes

**Chapter 13: Fury in His Eyes**

* * *

Tywin all but ran out of The Block after he left the meeting, Roose hot on his heels. The two of them ducked into a blacked out SUV parked out front.

"Get me out of here," Tywin hissed to the driver.

The man driving stepped on it and pulled out into traffic.

"Alive," Tywin added.

"What are going to do?" Roose asked.

Tywin made no response, he only pulled out his phone and called Jaime.

Once his son answered, all he said was, "Take care of that blasted Stark man in our basement, I don't care what or how, but hang him up like they did Lancel."

He didn't wait for Jaime to say anything back, hanging up.

Tywin straightened, loosening his tie, "Let your dogs off their leash, I'll do the same."

Roose smiled, "I know just the person."

"Bet you do."

"Should I be expecting Seaworth soon?"

"I'd say so," Tywin nodded.

"What the fuck am I supposed to tell him?"

Tywin strokes his chin, "It's a tight spot, I won't lie. You can't tell him anything different from what you told everyone in the meeting or else there are conflicting testimonies. Plus, you'd look quite guilty at that point."

Roose shrugged, "So?"

"You have to consistent."

"If the dim-witted Stark boys could see through it then why in fucks name wouldn't Seaworth?"

"He doesn't have to believe it, Roose. You are supposed to be the only one who was there."

"What if it finds something?"

"Didn't you clean the room?" When Roose's eyes widened, as he had completely forgotten, Tywin scoffed. "You didn't wipe the room down?"

"No… not yet."

Tywin stuck his finger in Roose's face, "Make that the first thing on your list, my prints on are the doorknob. Surely, I left some blood in there. Take care of it! Seaworth cannot find out I was there!"

Roose put his hands up in defeat, "I'll take care of it. I will."

* * *

Jon hadn't felt this uplifted in a long time, walking talking with Dany made him feel so good. Like his soul was filling up.

He knew it would take time though, but the fact that she had even agreed to meet him after he murdered three people right in front of her eyes was a good sign he supposed. Maybe she could feel safe around him, he would protect her.

They still held hands as they walked down the street, Jon welcomed the contact even though he sensed she wasn't entirely comfortable. But untroubled enough to keep holding his hand, he really did want to know what happened to her. Nevertheless, he could never actually ask her, the only way he'd know would be if she willingly relayed it. Carefree, they ambled down the sidewalk, nothing to do and all night to do it.

"So… You had fun?" Jon questioned.

Daenerys gasped, "I haven't had that much fun in a long time, Jon Snow. Of course, I had fun."

"Good to hear," Jon laughed.

"What's next?"

Jon was surprised at the inquiry, hadn't thought that far ahead, "Uh… well, I can take you home if you'd like."

"Why would I want to go home?"

Jon shrugged, "Honestly, I hadn't considered what we do after dinner. Just wanted to get that right first, then I'd think of something."

Dany kept her eyes on him, "Jon… I—"

Jon stopped dead in his tracks, halting her as well. His gaze settled on something ahead of them, he looked behind them also. He cursed under breath searching for a way out.

"Jon? Are you okay?"

He took hold of her arms, he hoped not too hard, but serious.

"Listen to me, Dany, people are coming for us."

Jon didn't wait for a response he just took her by the wrist on drug her into a nearby alley, praying for safety.

Dany dug her heels down, "Jon! You're hurting me!"

He turned into her, "Dany, we have to go—" His stopped speaking because he noticed a man standing by the entrance to the alleyway. Then returned his eyes to the front to see another man coming towards them from the other end.

Dany became aware of the situation, "Who are these people?" Now, welcoming herself under Jon's arm.

Jon took a few steps away from the man closest to them but froze when the other goon became near. There wasn't anything around them but two dumpsters, no doors, no escape.

"Ah… good to see you… bastard."

Jon whipped back to Ramsay Bolton standing behind him, next to the first man Jon saw.

"Ooh, who's this you've got with you?" Ramsay cooed, he ran a hand through his hair, trying to make himself a bit more presentable.

"I like her," he said.

"Get the fuck out here, Ramsay," Jon barked. "I beat you once I can do it again." Now getting a good look at Ramsay's friends, he recognized Locke, bushy black hair and a thick goatee. The other must be Polliver, a gangly bald man. Locke stood by Ramsay and Polliver behind Jon.

Jon planned on stepping forward but an arm wrapped around his neck and pulled him backward. He reached for Dany as he was forced to retreat, Ramsay grabbed her and pushed himself on her. Pulling her over to a nearby wall, pinning his body against hers.

As Polliver held Jon, Locke came over and started punching him in the gut and face. Jon wrestled against Polliver but the air was leaving his lungs. Locke's fists only made it hard to concentrate.

Dany fought and clawed Ramsay's face, he recoiled. Brushing a finger over a fresh cut over his cheek, laughing he said, "A fighter! I like it when they fight back." He slapped Dany hard, she fell to her knees, he picked her back up and pushed her against the brick wall again.

Ramsay pressed his left arm across her chest and used his right hand to run up her inner thigh. He began pulling on her undergarments.

Dany cried and screamed, "Jon! Help! Please stop!"

Meanwhile, Jon getting it tough. His right eye was swelling up, and his ribs felt cracked, jaw feeling loose.

"Give up bastard," Polliver snarled in his ear. "We'll beat you lifeless, then maybe we will fuck your bitch bloody."

"Once we are done with her nobody else is gonna wanna lay eyes on her," Locke added, punching Jon in the face. Then he stepped back, he reached into his jacket pocket and came back with a collapsible baton. Once it was pulled all the way out, he struck Jon on his hip, after that his knee.

Jon's vision started to blur, it all closing in on him. Everything hurt. But Dany's plea gave him newfound strength, he angles himself and kicks off Locke into Polliver which sent them crashing against one of the dumpsters.

Polliver yelped and fell to the ground, his back collided with the blunt edge of the garbage container. He rolled around on the pavement, clutching the small of his back.

Jon straightened and spat some blood onto Polliver's bald head. He grinned as Locked came at him, adrenaline coursing there his veins, he ducked under a swing with the baton from Locke, then punched his ribs. Locke stumbled back, Jon pressed forward, stepping into a forceful haymaker that connected with Locke's jaw.

The Bolton man retreated but didn't fall down. He came back swinging, the baton hit Jon in ribs again.

Jon grunted in pain, stepping back hyperventilating a bit. Though when Locke swung at him again hitting his arm, making it sting. However, Jon was able to block the next then kicked the man in the gut. Staying on the offensive as Locke recoiled, he ran into him laying a hard elbow to his forehead.

Locke fell onto the ground, dropping the baton. Towering over him, Jon stomped on his chest twice and kicked him in the face. He rolled over coughed up blood. He picked up the baton and whipped Locke mercilessly, Jon reared back to crush his skull with his foot when Dany called out, incoherently, screaming.

Jon came over, "Ramsay!" he yelled as loud as he could. "Let her go before I tear you limb from limb!"

Ramsay had tried to get her bottoms off to no avail, she'd crossed her legs and kept scratching at him. So, he had pushed her to her knees and settled for pulling his hardened penis out and trying to shove it her mouth.

"Come on! The least you could do is suck on my cock!" He spat on her. This is what he was doing when Jon came over. It was also now that it started to rain.

He turned to him, "Ah! Bastard, your bitch is quite the vicious whore!"

"Get the fuck off her!" Jon exclaimed.

"Oh no, I like the fight. I think I'll keep her," he raised his eyebrows and grinned. But his face soon turned to agony as Dany had taken a moment to bit down hard on his cock.

Ramsay wailed in immense pain, "Motherfucker! Fuck!" Then he grew even angrier than he was before.

Dany smirked before he punched her in the gut.

Jon went to jump at Ramsay but he was kicked in the back by Polliver. He fumbled to the ground, losing grip of the baton. Polliver took this chance to straddle Jon, and take blow after blow to his head. The first few hit Jon hard, his ears started to ring, blood flowed over his eyes. Eventually, he had the wherewithal to get his arms over his face. Tired of the attack, Jon waited until Polliver took a breath to stick his fingers in the man's left eye.

Polliver cried and covered his eye, now wide open, Jon struck him in the throat.

Pushing him off, Jon rose up he took hold of the collar of his shirt, he slung him aside like a he weighed nothing.

Polliver crashed into the wall opposite where Ramsay was. His head hit pretty hard, Jon hoped his head cracked. Though he wasn't done yet.

Now, Jon grabbed one of Polliver's arms, he pulled hard and kicked the corresponding shoulder. Which at the very least dislocated the joint, but based on the Polliver's intense cry in pain his collarbone might have been utterly shattered.

 _Fury in his eyes_ , Jon looked back to Ramsay. Who was now frustrated, deciding to turn Dany around and attempt to force himself inside her. He pulled a small knife out and planned to cut her dress off.

Jon was done talking, he walked over to them.

Ramsay saw him coming and pulled her up, holding the knife to her throat.

"Not so fast, bastard," Ramsay warns. He backed up.

Dany's tears mixed with the raindrops on her face, her countenance was overwhelmingly an appearance of fear.

Jon's face was marred and bloody, he could barely see out of his right eye. His once clean white shirt had a lot of blood on it.

"You think I won't cut her throat?"

"You… do that and I'll break every bone your worthless body, then I'll flay you and feed you to the dogs," Jon seethed.

"Flaying is for Bolton's only," Ramsay laughed. "It's out sigil, is it not? Maybe I'll show you one day."

Ramsay kept moving back but circled around so he wouldn't go back into the street. Dany's eyes pleaded for some semblance of safety. Ramsay was behind her, his dick was still out and it brushed over her thighs.

Jon couldn't let her stay in his grasp, he rushed forward. To his surprise, Ramsay tossed Dany aside and lashed out with his knife.

Taken off guard, the knife slashed through Jon's shirt in scratched deep into his skin. He was forced to retreat, he brushed over his fresh wound, his fingers came away caked in blood. The lower half of his shirt soon became soaked in crimson.

Ramsay ran a finger down his blade, "Sharp, huh?" Then he took a second to put his manhood back in its cage.

Jon groaned and exhaled, "Think you've got a chance now? Flayed men down stand a chance against hungry Wolves. I told you I'd tear you limb from limb, you take me for a liar?"

Ramsay growled, "I'll enjoy killing you. Then I'll have your bitch!"

In quick succession, Ramsay swung at Jon with the knife many times, Jon had managed to dodge most of them but the last. Which cut a gash just above his right eye.

Jon roared as Ramsay tried to stab him again, he sidestepped and grabbed his arm with both hands.

Jon knocked the blade away, then he elbowed Ramsay in the face, leaving his nose pointed in the wrong direction.

The Bolton faltered back, covering his face, Jon followed, kicking the man in the leg. Ramsay dropped to one knee, giving Jon the window to bash his head with his own knee. Ramsay rocked back, falling flat on the ground.

For good measure, Jon punched Ramsay countless more times in the face. He wouldn't have stopped had his hand not started to feel like it was broken, and he remembered Daenerys.

He found her holding herself, leaning against the wall. Clearly crying her eyes out, and shaking, her dress was tattered.

Jon walked over slowly, he didn't want to startle her.

"Dany?"

Her eyes shot up when she realized it was him she got up quickly and ran into her arms. She squeezed him tighter than a woman of her stature should be able to. Jon's breath actually left him for a moment, though it was comforting knowing at the very least she could feel safe with him, even after what she just endured.

He put her arms around her, "I'm so sorry, Dany."

She cried hard into her chest, unbothered by the blood, sweat, and rain.

"Dany… I'm probably bleeding on you," Jon managed, with a short laugh.

She pulled away and got a scanned her eyes down him. Then she noticed she, in fact, had a fresh coat of Jon's blood on her.

Despite the circumstances, her nurse mode kicked in, pulling up his shirt she examined the wound. The entire lower half of his shirt is soaked, his bleeding onto his pants.

"We gotta get pressure on that, it's really bleeding, you're definitely gonna need stitches. You should sit down before you bleed out—"

"I don't care about me," Jon interjected. "I'll be fine… I care about you, are you okay?"

"You need to sit down." She ignored his question. "I'll call the paramedics."

"No hospital."

"What?"

"After last time, I'm not going in a hospital."

"Then What—"

"How are you even forming full sentences right now? Are you sure you're okay?

She stamped her foot, "Of course I'm not okay! I was almost raped! I'm trying not to think about it until I'm in the comfort of my own house and glass of wine is in front of me. With you here, I have something else to pay attention to so I don't have to give any thought to it right now. Though… surely soon it's gonna hit me hard and I'm going to be a complete wreck. I'm trying to be strong. Now go lean against the wall on the ground before you pass

out."

"Now that you mention it… I am feeling a bit dizzy right about now," Jon said. Stumbling over the wall, then sliding down it to the floor.

Dany came to his side, noticing that her clothing revealed way than she'd probably like, he took off his jacket and handled to her wordlessly.

She gladly took it and put it over herself.

"If not the paramedics than who can we call?" She asked.

"Robb, call Robb," Jon exhaled. "My phone should be in my jacket pocket if it isn't smashed to pieces."

First Dany tore off a piece of her already ruined dress and gave it to Jon.

"Press that to gash," she told him. Jon nodded as she searched for his phone in one of the jacket compartments, when she located it she was relieved to see it somehow wasn't broken but like a lot of Jon right now it was covered in blood. She wiped the screen down.

"What's your password?"

"Password? Do you want my password? I think we're moving too fast, Dany." He managed a laugh, though he choked on it. "Typically, I don't give passwords out until at least three dates," Jon jested through his bloodied teeth.

It made him all warm and fuzzy to see her smile, "You can change it later—"

"1-0-2-2," Jon cut in.

"Does that number have any significance?" She put the code in without looking up, when he didn't make a noise she glanced up to see he was passing out.

"Hey, Jon, you need to stay awake!" She warned.

"What?" He muttered. "I'm not sleepy."

"Stay awake," she repeated. Finding Robb's contact, she called him.

"Jon? Where are you?"

Dany opened her mouth but no words came out.

"Jon!?"

"Hello, you don't know me but this is Daenerys Targaryen."

Robb laughed, "I've heard a lot about you, Daenerys Targaryen. Is Jon to drunk to drive you home or something?"

"Quite the opposite, we were jumped after we left the restaurant. He needs help."

Dany could hear him stiffen through the mouthpiece, "What happened? Where are you?"

"Jon fought them off but he — stay awake, Jon! — were just down the street from _Corina's,_ in an alleyway."

She heard him yell at someone, "Okay, I'm sending a few guys. Who attacked you?"

"Bolton's, I didn't know them but Jon kept yelling the name, 'Ramsay.'"

She could hear Robb scoff and groan. "Is… Jon okay?"

"He's in bad shape, he took a beating and he's got a nasty cut on his stomach. He needs medical attention but he didn't wanna go to the hospital."

"That sounds like my brother, Listen, my guys will be there soon, okay?"

Robb and Dany exchange a few more words about their exact location.

Meanwhile, Jon got a chance to look around now, he was baffled to see that Ramsay, Locke, and Polliver were all gone. They must have had enough beating for one day he thought. They'd get their full punishment later.

"Alright," she hung up.

Jon looked to be dozing off again, slumped over on his shoulder. His face, doused in his own blood and some from his attackers, the swollen eye only got worse.

Dany shook him, "Jon, stay awake!"

Jon shuddered, "I'm… so sorry."

"You already apologized, it's not your fault anyway."

"Yes, it was. They came for me and you got caught in the crossfire," he gritted his teeth. "And that motherfucker Ramsay Bolton tried to—"

"He didn't though, he… you stopped him."

"I told you I would protect you, I've already failed," Jon exhaled a heavy breath.

"You didn't fail, there's no telling what would've happened if you weren't here."

Jon knew because they told him, he's glad she didn't. It's surprising to see her strength at this moment, despite breaking down over them merely touching before. He chalked it up to her being stronger-willed than he thought.

"I saw how you fought against him," Jon said. "You looked like—"

Her expression went stone-like, "I'd been there before." She said for him.

Jon frowned, making sense of her interjection.

"You… what?"

"I'm no stranger to situations like that, Jon."

"I know that… now."

Jon closed his eyes, slumber calling his name. He felt Daenerys try to jostle him, but his body didn't respond. His eyelids were heavy, limbs going limp.

It all went black.

* * *

Robb raked both his hands through his thick hair, trying to get it out of his face. It couldn't be any worse. He sat in his father's chair in the office.

He yelled and knocked a stack of papers off the desk, each paper fluttered in the air.

"Fuck!" Robb grunted, drawing out the syllables.

Mere moments later, his mother scurried into the room, the door banged against the wall, her eyes worried.

"Robb?" She came to his side. "Are you okay? What happened?"

He shrugged her off and went stand by the window, resting his forearm against the frame.

"What's wrong?" Catelyn asked him.

Robb shook his head, rubbing his forehead with his free hand, resistant. It was all too much right now, He felt like a hapless idiot playing a game he didn't fully understand. He'd incited things by killing Lancel and now Jon was playing the price.

"What happened?!" Catelyn asked again, raising her voice. She came over to put her hand on his back.

"Jon got jumped," he spat the words out hoping they were a lie.

"What do you mean?"

Robb spun around to her, desperately trying not to cry. "He was attacked, him and his date," his voice just hair above a whisper.

Catelyn sighed, "Well, he made his own choices—"

"Stop!" Robb interrupts her. "Why… are you so terrible to him? You have no reason to be so damn hateful to him, he never did anything to you. His life is on the line because of me!"

"I don't care about him," His mother rolled her eyes.

"Why?" Robb was aghast.

"Because he's not my son!" Catelyn scoffs. "He's the spawn of my husband and some tavern wench from who knows where! He is the living example that I… wasn't enough for your father. He settled for some… a bitch from Essos!" Her face had reddened as she spoke.

"Jon didn't have a fucking thing to do with that!" Robb yelled back, throwing his hand in the air. "He didn't have a choice in how he was born! All he ever wanted was a mother to love him, his real mother never had a chance… but you could've been the mother figure he needed… instead, you spat on him."

"Spat on him? Spat… on him? I could've had him thrown out into the rain, I could've—"

"You wouldn't have done that, we would've never forgiven you for it. We'd never forget. We all accepted him. Save you and Sansa, and even she did eventually, you are the only one still resents him. For no reason and I'm tired of it, I won't hear it anymore."

Robb walked past her, and stopped, "He's my brother, he was always my brother… he'll always _be_ my brother."

"Half."

"What?" He turned back to her.

"He's your half-brother."

Robb narrowed his gaze, "You're my mother, and I love you… but I'm the man of this household now. You need to come to terms with that. Don't speak against Jon ever again, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him."

With that, he stomped out of the room.

* * *

Dany watched as they carried Jon into the house, people she didn't know poured out to receive him all of them yelling and telling each other what to do. She froze by the car, not knowing whether or not to go inside.

When a red-haired girl came out, they locked eyes. She descended the steps and stood in front of Daenerys.

"You… must be Daenerys," she said. She put a hand over her heart, "I'm Sansa, Jon's brother, are you…" Sansa's voice trailed off as her eyes scanned over Dany's appearance.

Dany knew she must look like a mess but Sansa's face made it seem worse than she thought.

Sansa held her hand out, "Come inside, we can get you cleaned up and… I can find something for you to wear."

A blank expression came upon Dany's face, she wished to speak but her body wouldn't let her. It all came crashing down now like a wave washed over her. Soaking her whole body and mind with

melancholy, realization setting in.

Sansa could empathize with the Targaryen, she knew what a woman who just underwent abuse looked like because she'd been there before. She knew the feeling.

"Robb said it was Ramsay…" Sansa said. "I… He did it to me too. I get it. It helps to talk about it, let me help you, you don't know me but you can if you want." Her hand stayed out.

Dany's eyes lingered on Sansa's fingertips, she slowly reached out.

Sansa went to meet her, taking her hand, startling Dany.

"It's okay," Sansa whispered. "It's okay. I've got you." She held her hand and wrapped her other arm around Dany. Together, they went into the house.

Sansa led her upstairs to her room, and to her own bathroom inside.

Dany's face was blank the whole time and it stayed the same. She sat on the edge of Sansa's bathtub.

"You want to take a bath?" Sansa asked. Dany didn't speak but slowly nodded, avoiding her gaze.

Sansa reaches over and turned the water on, "When you're done knock on the door and I'll bring you something to wear, okay?"

Dany nodded again as Sansa left, closing the door behind her.

Closing her eyes, she began to remove Jon's jacket and her tattered clothes was once a dress. She didn't dare chance a glance at herself in the mirror lest she breakdown once again.

Water boiling hot like she enjoys, she slid into the tub. She laid there for a while before she pulled her legs to her chest.

It was then that she finally began to cry.

* * *

 **I've appreciated the support. Do keep the reviews coming, it helps more than you know.**

 **Feel free to theorize or ask questions, I'll see if I can respond to a few.**

 **Thanks much.**


	14. There's Room For You Inside

**Chapter 14: There's Room For You Inside**

* * *

Jon walked down a hallway of a house, more like floating. At least that's what the feeling resembled as if his body rested against a large cloud that carried him around. Sunlight burned into his eyes as he made his way into a living room, a singular window let the morning sunbeams through. His body moves to the window, the heat shined onto him, he could feel it on his cheeks. Like when he'd blush whenever he became the center of attention or he had a bad blunder.

For some reason, he stepped through the window Like it wasn't even there in the first place, he ended up on the grassy ground. In front of him resided an even greener hill, when he crested it, the sun sat just in front of him. Like he could reach out and touch it. It a pleasant feeling at first, just like a warm summer day. But then it grew hotter and hotter, his skin became inflamed.

He wanted to lift his hands to cover his face but they wouldn't move. Just when he seemed like he'd catch on fire, it stopped. The sun was replaced by the moon, casting enough light to see. The blistering heat is gone, now a cool breeze came over him. Reminiscent of jumping into a pool on a hot summer day, the sweaty heat that would stick to the body, immediately washed away. The fire got put out.

He could smell the rain before it came, nevertheless started, not hard at first, a light drizzle. But then the wind picked up at of nowhere, soon it poured in a sideways direction. The rainfall assaulted his face. He managed to close his eyes to keep them from being washed out.

He didn't realize how cold it became until he remembered how the heat felt. His body shivered as the rain ran down his body, the hair on his neck threatened to stand up if not for the water running over it.

When he opened his lids again, he was transported somewhere else. He walked down a road in the city, still pouring rain like before but he's covered by train tracks above him. Though the wind blew hard, making some moisture curve under and brush against his face. None of the street lines are on like normal, the only thing that guided him was a door at the end of the street. It was closed but rainbow-like colors surrounded it as if some intense rave went on inside. As he approached, the door swung open and a man he didn't recognize stepped out and pointed a pistol at him.

Jon held his hands up and froze like a statue.

His potential attacker looked him over, eyes wandering up and down. He wore a black trench coat and an accompanying black fedora. The man's features were impossible to make out in the darkness.

After a long silence, " _Who in fucks name are you?"_ the man covered in darkness said. The illumination of whatever lies behind him backlit his body, giving him an otherworldly appearance.

"Uhh…" Jon muttered. "Jon Snow."

" _Snow? The fuck you mean Snow?"_

"I'm a bastard."

" _Huh…"_ The gun stayed trained on Jon. " _Bastard, huh?"_

"Yeah," Jon nodded, his voice unsteady.

" _Listen, son,_ " said the man with the gun. " _There's room for you inside."_

Jon was given no time to consider what that statement meant as it all went white, when the brightness cleared away, it became abundantly clear that he was dreaming mere seconds ago because he lies in his own bed.

His vision blurred, couldn't really make out anything, save for two forms at the foot of the bed.

Barely, he made out what they were saying:

"He'll live… he just needs plenty of rest. He did lose quite a lot of blood, he must have a few bruised if not broken ribs, I had to recenter his nose and jaw. The gash on his stomach was severe but I stitched it up. His right hand is in bad shape, he'll need to keep it wrapped up and put ice on it. Nonetheless, with a lot of rest, he'll recover in a few days," the voice was familiar but he couldn't place it.

"Thank you," The other person said, Jon knew immediately it was Robb. "You've been such a great help, Mr. Luwin."

"I've been with this family for a long time," Luwin laughed. "I'll always help in any way I can."

They exchanged a few more words and came nearer to him. But his eyes blurred again and he was out like a light.

When he came to, there was a needle in his arm, his eyes followed the tube until his gaze hit Robb, who had his sleeve rolled up with the other news of tube jabbed into his own arm, he sat in a chair by the bed.

Jon's eyes started to work correctly now, Robb rested the back of his head on the chair. The unmistakable white blob of fur laid on his bed by his feet.

Ghost looked up at him with red beady eyes, then rolled back over.

Since they were in his room, Jon was quite familiar with his surroundings.

The bedroom had changed many times over the years, progressing through Jon's several phases and ages. From childhood to adolescence, when he was really young, Catelyn demanded that he sleep downstairs as opposed to the truly born kids who slept upstairs. Ned went along with this for a while until Jon was sixteen, then he allowed Jon to get a room upstairs.

Currently, the walls are drab, colored with a pale gray. Nothing hung on them, different from his much younger years when posters of cars or rock band cover art might've resided. His space was kept tidy most all the time, he had a dresser that contained most of his clothes. On the same wall as the door was a small, tight hallway along it is a little nook that serves as a closet. All the way down is the door to his own bathroom.

Jon must have started to stir because Robb looked up.

"Jon?" He groans, sleepily.

"Yeah… it's me, ya idiot," Jon quipped.

"How are you feeling?"

Jon frowned, "Got a pretty bad headache, and I feel like I got hit but a bus."

"Sounds about right."

"How long have I been out?"

"They brought you in around eleven, now it's just past twelve-thirty. You—"

Jon's eyes widened, "Where's Dany? Is she here—"

Robb laughed, "Dany? You have nicknames already?"

"Robb, seriously."

The older brother sighed, "she's gone."

"Gone? Whaddaya mean gone?"

"She left."

"Where'd she go?"

"Some girl with a big head of frizzy hair showed up and took her away," Robb shrugged.

"Who was she?"

"Brother, I don't know. One of her friends I guess, they knew each other pretty well it looked like didn't think anything of it."

Jon lowered his eyes, "You talk to her?"

"Yeah… it — it seemed really bad, Jon. She was really shaken up."

Shaking his head slowly, back and forth, Jon blew out a heavy breath out his nose. Memories of just a few hours ago came flooding into the forefront of his brain. Himself getting beat senseless, Dany, a woman he'd grown to care for in a very short period of time, getting defiled in ways he never knew possible.

"Ramsay—"

"I know," Robb grimaced. "We'll get him."

"Put out the word, him, Locke and Polliver," Jon locked eyes with Robb. "I want all three of them."

"You'll have 'em," Robb agreed.

"You weren't there, Robb. You didn't see what they did to her! What Ramsay did!"

"I didn't have to be there, Jon."

"What did Dany tell you?"

Robb bit his lip, "Not much, but she didn't have to. I knew it was Ramsay, and… I saw her. I understood. But you… what happened to you?"

It was a bit fuzzy, hard to remember the specifics at this moment, though he couldn't forget it all. Jon grimaced at the remembrance. He wished Dany hadn't left so he could've seen her one more time. After all this, he doubted she'd ever want to be in his presence ever again. The thought caused him physical pain.

"Polliver… he held me back as Locke beat on me. One of them pulled out a… a baton or something and hit me with that. Somehow, I broke out of Polliver's grasp, then I ended up stomping on Locke and whipping him with the baton. I would've crushed the fucker's skull if it wasn't for Dany crying out. I tried to get to her but Polliver stopped me, he beat on me some more but I think I might've shattered his collarbone for getting in my way."

Robb's eyes widened, "Fuck, Jon, are you serious?"

It all came back now, "I'm for real, brother."

Leaning back in his chair, Robb rubbed his brow.

Jon continues, "Once Ramsay and I were toe to toe, he cut me a few times, but beat his face in pretty good. I shoulda killed him—"

"Why didn't you?" Robb interjected.

"I had to get to Daenerys."

"If it was me, I would've beat them all a pulp, maybe until death," Robb turned his nose up.

"Dany—"

"Jon, you just met this girl. How can you be so hot for her?"

"You haven't met her."

"Aye, but even if she's beautiful—"

"She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, Robb," Jon cut in and tried to sit up, though his whole lower body felt like it burst into flames. He slumped back down, breathing hard.

"Ever, Robb," he huffed. "And I'd do anything for her. But none of that matters anyway… I doubt I'll ever see her again."

"What makes you say that?"

"She left. She's now experienced unspeakable things around me and all because of me. I've only begun to understand the types of things that have happened to her. Stuff I can't really comprehend, the sort of events I have no context for, no perspective."

Robb clears his throat, "What kind of… events?"

"I can only speculate. But… clearly, she's been abused. To what extent I don't know, what specifically is even murkier. She has a lot of baggage, and I'm not sure she's entirely emotionally stable at all times."

"But… What? You just trying to get in and then duck out?" Robb scratched his forehead, voice unsure.

"No, it's not like that. Though if I told you I didn't want to fuck her I'd be lying," Jon managed a laugh. "Still, no. This is not a one-time and walk away type of girl."

"Then what is she? Jon, from my minimal interaction with her and what you've told she sounds like a whole lot to handle. Maybe… maybe it's better that you let her go," Robb proposed.

"If this was a normal girl, you'd be right. But she's a Targaryen, brother. She's not like anyone else, no one could come after her and compare. I feel a tug towards her. I want to be with her. As I said though, I won't see her again, and I'd never pursue her… not after what's happened. Especially if she doesn't want me to."

"Jon, if you care about her, tell her. Make an attempt," Robb sighed. "I do think you should let her go, though. I have had some run-ins with girls like this. You can't sustain a relationship if every time you touch her she retreats. You do know most couples are romantically involved right?"

"Damn it, you are missing the whole point. Robb, I realize she is mentally struggling. Because of her past, whatever that has fucked her up so bad it's lingered with her years after. But I don't care about any of that. It doesn't change how I feel about her."

Robb scoffed, "You don't care?"

"No, I don't."

"Well, just like you said, she won't want to see you ever again. So none of it matters anyway."

"Yeah, I assume she'll start to associate me with her almost being raped. I'm not sure if she's been assaulted like that before but someone has definitely tried it force themselves on her. She told me as much."

"Damn," Robb's face darkened, and he looked away from his brother. Hearing enough, He stood up, "Alright, that's enough talking, Luwin said you need a lot of rest so get some sleep. You're gonna need it, and I need you back strong. Y'know… the lawyers are going to come read Dad's will tomorrow." He turned and walked towards the door.

Jon slapped his forehead with his good hand, "Fuck," he sighed. "I forgot all about that."

"Good thing you didn't die, then."

"Robb," Jon called out making his brother stop and look back to him. "Tell Grenn… find me those men, that'll earn him his stripes."

"I'll call him right now," Robb replies. Then he left.

Jon's eyes stayed glued to the ceiling for longer than he knew. Ghost got back up and all but fell on his chest. He thought that might hurt but it felt like a feather fell on him. His lifelong friend kicked his face and then rested his head on Jon's cheek.

Ghost got bigger and bigger every day, warm and fuzzy to welcome people, though Jon wouldn't be surprised if he could tear someone's throat open with those teeth of his. Using Jon's left hand, he racked his fingers through Ghost's thick hairs along his spine.

Eventually, sleep came to him.

* * *

The family lawyer, Rodrik Cassel, gathered the family in Ned's study.

One of Bran's old wheelchairs was given to Jon to move around in until he got his full strength back. He hated it, but he knew he needed it. Speaking of Bran, he came down from his room for the first time since his father died. He spent most of his time in there, food gets brought to him and Mr. Luwin helps him bathe himself. Some extra chairs were brought in so everyone could have a seat.

Rodrik stood behind Ned's desk, clutching a wooden box he set it down on the desk. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a key, when he stuck into a keyhole on the box, it opened up. A waft of old dusty air misted into their air, Rodrik retrieved a vanilla envelope, he held it up, "Inside this, is Ned's will."

"How long has it been in there?" Arya called out.

Rodrik shrugged, "I don't have any idea, can't guess, he handed it to me so many years ago I don't even know. Should I open it?"

Robb inclines his chin as if it let him see inside the package, "Yes, please."

Everyone leaned forward, except for Jon, he turned away and looked out the window. Watching intently as Rodrik tore the envelope as carefully as he could. A snowy white piece of paper rested inside, Rodrik delicately pulled it out. Unfolding it he read aloud:

 _I, Eddard Stark of sound mind and health, do leave my last will and testament._

 _To my family, I hope my leaving you wasn't too painful for you. Know that I thought of every single one of you as I went. I love and care for each of you in my special way. Now best not waste time, I know why you are here. I thought very carefully about what to do about this I hope you aren't disappointed._

 _I leave any and all my lands, titles, and holdings to my whole family to be distributed in any way they see fit. Only, I leave specifically leave the old truck in the garage to Bran. He can do whatever with it he wants._

 _This decision may seem strange now, but I didn't want to create discord within the family by sectioning off parts of my wealth or what-have-you to any number of you. Because, well, whatever I decided wouldn't be up to par with your expectations. Or you'd fight over what one of you got as opposed to what someone else got. No… I can't have that. Decide for your own, do what you feel is right. My grasp on you has been lifted, physically at least. But, if this causes issues nonetheless, I name Mr. Luwin, to intermediate, he should be able to find something appropriate for everyone._

 _As far as my last wishes go… my body… don't bury in the ground to rot, don't bring my bones back to Winterfell and leave them to waste away. Instead, burn my body to ash, and spread some of my ashes in the North. Winterfell, if you like, but North, where I belong. Use some of me to fertilize a new tree in our yard, so my remains can of use. Take what's left and keep it in a jar if you so wish, leave me on a shelf, that way I can keep my eyes on you._

 _Remember me as I was, I hope I didn't leave you at a sick, disgusting age. Where you had to take care of me, clean up after me, tuck me in at night. I hope not. Remember me whenever you feel I was my best. I pray for a positive light._

 _If there is an afterlife, I'll be here waiting for you. Hopefully, for a long while still, I'll have to see if I can prepare some sort of party. I was never good at those things, but maybe I'll have some time to learn._

 _I love you all, very much._

 _Eddard Stark._

Not a dry eye in the room, even Rodrik, teared up, though he wiped them away once he stopped reading. Arya, too, finally let the waterworks begin.

Rodrik set the letter down, then stuck his hands back in the box.

"Ned also left each of you a personal letter," he came back out with hands full of white envelopes. He sprayed them all out on the desk, "Your names are on yours. I'd advise waiting to open them up. Though—"

"Why did he leave me the truck?" Bran's soft, but now firm voice cut through the air, interrupting Rodrik. "The very same damn truck that ruined my life. Why would I want that thing?"

Catelyn reaches over and puts a hand on his knee, "I'm not sure, son."

"How much money did Dad leave?" Arya asked. Her mother considered chastising Arya for asking such a thing but then she realized she'd like to know as well.

"Well," Rodrik crosses his arms over his chest and cleared his throat. "Ned — your father, left… it all. All of it."

"All of it?"

"Every penny."

"How much is that?" Robb questioned.

Rodrik pulled out a pair of reading glasses, and then a folded parchment from his jacket. He held it out in front of his face, narrowing his eyes.

"Uh… the amount of… 1.2 billion dollars," Rodrik coughed.

Catelyn tried not to look surprised but she really had no idea how much money her late husband possessed.

"How will that be divided up six ways?" she asks.

"Six ways?" Robb leans forward. "I count seven." He raised the corresponding amount of his fingers.

His mother glared at him, "six." She repeats. "You, your _two_ brothers, and two sisters, and me."

Jon kept his eyes trained on the outside world as Robb stood.

"I told you about this already, mother. I have _three_ brothers. I have _always_ had _three_ brothers," Robb nearly growled.

"He does not deserve your father's blessings."

Robb half-laughed, turning around for a moment to compose himself.

"Am I missing something?" Sansa inquires.

"Mother wants to cut Jon out of the will, Sansa," Arya rolled her eyes.

"Why?" Rickon asked, sniffling.

"Mother never liked Jon," Bran added, expression plain. "Probably never will."

"Because Jon isn't _her_ son," Sansa said.

Robb raises a finger, "But he _is_ Dads. Stark blood runs through his veins. He won't be left out, he doesn't—"

Jon's voice rang out, "What if I don't want it? Y'all talk about me like I'm not here, that's nothing new." He finished with a scoff.

"What are you saying?" Robb looked at him.

"I don't want it," Jon never turned from the window.

"What do you want?" Robb persisted, hands on his hips.

Jon's gaze moved now, to his brother, but a glassy stare. Countenance as unmoved as Bran's, his sullenness making an appearance.

"Doesn't matter what I want," he muttered.

"I know what you want," Robb smirked. "What you've always wanted. I've actually meant to do this for a while, now is a good-a-time as ever. Considering we're all together."

Catelyn sat up, "What are you doing, Robb?"

Robb regarded her, "I'm glad you're here actually, mother."

"Robb? What are you talking about?" Jon said.

"Well," Robb crouched down to eye level with Jon. "what's the first thing you've ever wanted, Jon?"

Jon's eyes widened, as his mind wandered back to the past. Fellow children in his class, chastising him for his name, 'Snow,' the name of a bastard. The name caused Jon much strife growing up like he was lower than everyone else. Looked down upon, his whole life up to this point, everyone assumed him first, who stole the pencil? Jon. Who punched the rich kid? The bastard. A hard life for a child, one of the hardest imaginable, Jon was never able to enjoy the benefits of having the Stark name like Robb.

Many times, Jon would envy Robb. Not only is the firstborn son, but also the firstborn son of The King of The Block, no one would dare mess with Robb growing up. Even teachers looked the other way or gave him the extra point or two on tests. Jon might come home crying, no one to comfort him. Robb on the other hand, his chest puffed up, and a mother to bathe him with love.

In the beginning, Catelyn wouldn't let Robb play with Jon. But once she became pregnant with Sansa, she couldn't always keep them apart. It was then that Robb and Jon grew close, eventually, Catelyn would have to physically separate them. Soon after that, she stopped trying.

Brothers, they were, but half, and not in name. Though Jon held his head higher when he walked next to Robb, people still glared at him, still treated him different. All because of his name, so the first thing he ever wanted? Easy. A different name, _the_ name. _Stark._

Jon rubbed his face and over his eyelids, shaking his head. Returning from his thoughts, nothing seemed real.

"I know what you want, Jon," said Robb. "I'd tell you to stand but—"

Everyone hushed as Jon gathered what strength he had to rise from the wheelchair. Clutching his lower half with his good hand all the way, he leaned on Robb for a moment while he stilled himself. Everything hurt, from his kneecap to his head, every bone and muscle ached from the mere motion.

Robb laid a hand on his shoulder though, as gentle as he could. He smiled, "From this moment on, call yourself _Jon Stark._ All people will refer to you like this, as Robb Stark, King of The Block, I make it so."

Jon frowned and bit his lip. He didn't speak, just fell back into the wheelchair.

"Is this for real?" Arya gasped, eyes wide.

"I second that," Sansa added.

"Can he do that?" Bran asked.

"I'm confused," Rickon sighed. "What's happening?"

"Yes it is, and yes I can," Robb gestured at himself. "I can do whatever I want. Rickon, I merely allowed Jon to now use our name."

Catelyn's face reddened, "You sully your father's name." Before Robb could retort, she stormed out of the room, air whipping behind her as she went.

Robb pursed his lips, nostrils flared, "Why is she like this?"

"She's always been this way," Arya scoffed. "What'd Jon ever do to her?"

"I'm an example of the one blemish on father's notably honorable life," Jon sighed. "He came home with a child in his arms, just as Robb had been born. Saying this child will live with them, that's the thing Catelyn couldn't stomach. She'd just given birth to their first child. Think about it Sansa, if you ever birthed a child, and then your husband or lover brings a different kid from some whore the next day and says that this other babe will be raised with your child. How would you feel?"

Sansa huffed, "Like I wasn't enough for him."

"Exactly," Jon nodded. "I never said I didn't understand why… but that didn't make it hurt any less."

* * *

 _ **Thanks for reading.**_

 ** _I'd really appreciate some reviews right about now._**


	15. Be Safe

**Chapter 15: Be Safe**

* * *

Sharp toes shoes clacked against the hard marble floor as David Seaworth entered the Bolton building. Wearing a pale gray suit that somewhat matched his already graying hair, he carried a briefcase. He spoke briefly with a portly woman with thick brown hair, she wore a red dress. She sat at a desk by the doors, Davos told her about who he was and why he was here. She told him Roose himself would come down to greet him. But he asked her separate question:

"Did you see Ned Stark come in here?" His voice soft, but serious.

"Ned Stark?" The woman's eyes widened.

Davos shook his head, in slight frustration, "What's your name ma'am?"

"Barbara."

Davos nodded, setting his case next to him, pulling a notepad and pen out of his jacket pocket. He began writing on it.

Barbara leaned forward, trying to see what he was doing. "What are you writing?" She asked, hastily.

"Your name," Davos said, not looking up at her. "So I can remember to question you later. I have to write them down because, in my old age, I've become terrible at remembering names."

Then he smiled quickly at her before returning his notepad to his previous location, and picking up his briefcase, he walked away toward the elevators. Leaving Barbara with her mouth wide open, she called after him.

"Wait," she pleaded, somewhat breathless.

Davos slowly turned back to her, eyebrows high.

"He was here."

In one long stride, Davos stood in front of her again. "Was he alone?" He questioned, getting his pad out again.

Barbara hesitates, but spoke calmly, "No, a man came with him."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Describe him."

"From Essos, I think, olive skin, I didn't get a good look at his face," Barbara answers.

"They went up in the elevator?"

"Yes, Mr. Bolton came to meet them."

"They had a conversation? Hear anything?" Davos inquired, writing everything down.

"Yes sir, but I didn't hear what they said," Barbara twiddled her thumbs.

"They look hostile to each other?"

"Not particularly," she shook her head.

Davos smiled, "Thanks much for the info." He stuck his pad and pen back in his jacket. "That's all I have for right now, but I'm sure I'll have some more questions later. So surely I'll see you later."

He moved to walk away, but she called after him again.

"Please, Mr. Seaworth, I need this job."

Davos rocked back on his heels, "You did the right thing, ma'am."

"They'll know I talked," she whispered, but loud enough he could hear.

The ding of the elevator behind him signaled its arrival. Davos smiled, "You'll be fine, ma'am." He didn't wait for her to respond, just strutted over to meet Roose as he exited the lift.

He extended his hand, saying, "Roose."

The Bolton shook it, grimly, "Seaworth."

Davos speedily stepped past him into the elevator, half hoping Roose would stay downstairs and let him investigate uninterrupted. Though in vain as Roose followed him in, and pressed the button that corresponded with his floor.

Or so Davos prayed, for all he knew he could step out into a foreign floor and be lit up by machine guns.

They began moving upwards, they stood there in silence before Roose broke it.

"Seaworth, can we—"

Davos held his hand up to interrupt the man, "Roose, let's not waste time, I cannot be bought or swayed. You'd do well to remember that, and this will all go easier if you let me do what I need to and answer any questions I have."

Roose frowned but didn't retort.

Nothing was said until they reached the penthouse

Davos followed Roose out and thankfully wasn't met with the cocking of guns and resounding gunfire. He just had a simple question.

"Where?"

A blank expression about Roose's face gave nothing away, yet he replied, "My office. Follow me."

No words were exchanged as Davos hesitantly ambled behind the Bolton man. When they arrived at the door, Roose opened it and motioned for him to enter.

The room didn't look much like a crime scene.

Davos sighed, "You had all of this cleaned?"

"You expect me to work with all that - never mind… yes. After The Watch was finished, I did," Roose cleared his throat.

"I had hoped to take some samples."

"I guess you'll have to go to the station and ask about it then."

"It'll be difficult… though I'm sure that's what your intentions were," Davos said, coldly. Then he set his briefcase by the desk, he sat down in one of the chairs. When he sensed Roose lingering behind him, he turned around. The same blank countenance glared him in the face.

He sighed, "Have a seat."

Roose sludges over and falls into his chair.

Davos got his notes out again, he said, "Start at the beginning, play by play."

"Don't you already know everything?" Roose huffed.

"Assume I don't."

Roose rolled his eyes, "After the bastard boy brawled with Ramsay, Ned and I wanted to work out our differences. I invited him here. I waited for him here—"

"In your office?" Davos cut in.

"What?" Roose frowned.

"You waited in your office for him. Meaning he came up the lift and then someone let him in here. You didn't meet him downstairs as you did me?"

"No," Roose replied quickly, with no hesitation.

Davos looked up from his pad, but his hand kept writing. His eyes examined for a few moments, then said, "Eddard come alone?"

"Yeah."

"What happened next?"

"Ned came in and then had some drinks, I tried to treat with him but he was angry. He said something like, 'Roose, I've had enough of you' or something like that. He ended up pulling a gun. Which I didn't know he had. I had to defend myself."

"You shot him?"

"In self-defense, yes."

Davos' brow furrowed, with pursed lips, "Ned pulled a gun?" At the nodding of Roose's head, he questioned further, "But he didn't shoot."

"Huh?"

Davos scoffed, "You that quick on the draw?"

"What are you trying to say?"

"Where's the gun?" Davos sat up.

"Uhh… the gun?"

Davos shook his head, almost angrily, "Will you stop playing dumb? Do you have any clue what you're accused of? I'm not here to see _if_ you killed Eddard Stark, you confessed to it already. I'm here to see just how guilty you are, and sort of punishment you deserve. Don't get it twisted."

Roose's expression darkened, "I've grown tired of this discussion."

"We've just started. You are to comply with me unless you want to make this worse than it already is. You do know who is King now?"

"Not for long."

"What did you say?"

"You heard me."

"Ooh…" Davos laughs. "I suppose you and your cohorts want to veto Robb's claim. Well, none of that can happen until my investigation is closed. You can't be King, and you must have had help. They can't be King either... Have you thought this all the way through?"

Turning his nose up, Roose scowled, "I think it's time for you to leave."

"That's for me to decide, let's stay on topic. Where's the gun?"

Roose's eyes left Davos' face, clearly, he couldn't stall any further. He hadn't expected Davos to be this prepared or investigative. Backed into a corner, he needed to think of something. They had expected to get someone else to investigate and it would be a simple process to get through this. But by now Robb was supposed to be dead, and Tywin should've been crowned. Neither of those things happened, which put quite the damper on their plans. But there were still some power moves left.

Roose forcefully opened a drawer, in a couple of seconds, he laid a handgun on the desk.

Pad set down, Davos leaned forward to peer upon the weapon. He reaches out and picks it up. Roose widened his eyes and moved to lash out, but he was beaten back by a knowing glance from the older man.

Davos pulled the slide back, watching a round fly out with a satisfying noise. Much to Roose's confusion, he seemed to smell the end of the barrel. Then he released the clip, he caught it with his free hand. Once he laid the gun down in front of him, he spat all the bullets out of the magazine. Using his index finger, he counted them.

He smirked, "Either you've already reloaded this gun or you didn't shoot it at all."

Roose sucked in some air, "Pardon?"

Davos picked the weapon back up, "This is standard issue handgun, seven rounds. Counting the one in the chamber, all the bullets are here… Did already take time to reload the damn thing or was there a different gun fired?"

Roose looked away for a moment to compose his thoughts. Though he came back quickly, "Of course I reloaded the damn thing. Have to be ready at a moments notice that's the point of the fucking thing." His face flared up with heat, he threw his hands around.

A deep breath kept Davos grounded, with the lies piling up, this interview only spoke of just how guilty Roose is. He knew from his conversation with Barbara that Ned wasn't alone and Roose met him downstairs. Then there was the matter of the murder weapon, Roose's gun clearly hadn't been fired in months, a thin layer of dust along the slide spoke of that.

"Enough of this," Davos sighed. Metaphorically waving a white flag of surrender by holding his hands up. "Enough with the lies."

"Lies?"

"You are far too dull to have pulled this off by yourself. Who helped you?" Davos prodded.

Roose sat forward, laying his hand palms open on the desk, brow furrowed. His eyes glared daggers into Davos' soul.

"Listen here, Seaworth, I've grown tired of you berating me. Everything I've told you was the truth, besides, how the fuck would you know different if you weren't even fucking here?" He growled.

Davos kept blank expression, not giving anything away. He rolled his eyes, "It doesn't matter what you tell me. I've already gathered everything I need to know to give a conclusion." With that, he rose from his chair.

"What are you talking about?" Roose scoffed.

Davos chuckled to himself, once he picked up his briefcase, the movement to the door was swift.

Roose shot up from his seat, "Where are you going?" Moving to follow Davos, hot on his heels, intent unclear though he clearly fumed because he took his gun with him. When Davos put his hand on the handle of the door, he grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him back around to face him. He pressed the barrel of his pistol into Davos' guts.

To his surprise, Davos had no real reaction.

"You gonna shoot me?" Davos snorts. "How'd that look for you? Though I doubt it would change much, considering a donkey could tell you're guilty." His eyes glanced down at the piece of metal that was forced so hard against his stomach he knew there'd be bruise left in its place. Though Roose's eyes betrayed his intentions, despite a furious expression, opticals left wanting.

He stood up straighter and stared him down. "You don't have the guts, just you like didn't to have to kill Ned Stark. At least… not without certain assurances, that you received from a third party. You'd never kill the King unless you had backing, Roose Bolton doesn't have the stomach for such a murder. You had help, they probably were the one to pull the trigger anyway. You and I both know who that was…"

"You don't know a damn thing about me." Roose snarled, through gritted teeth.

"By the way, what do you think will happen to you?" Davos inquires, actually curious if he'd thoroughly thought this all the way through. "You do understand the wages of murdering a King is death, right?" He shrugs, "I suppose you think they'll never get a chance to sentence you."

When Roose pushed the barrel even deeper into his flesh, he himself was tired of this. Having enough, Davos shoved him off. Startled, Bolton retaliated by raising the gun high, sights set on Davos' skull.

"If you're going to shoot, get on with it," Davos sighed, but kept his voice even. After a few seconds, Roose's reluctance made an appearance.

The grasp on the grip loosened, jaw went slack. Though the end of the barrel stayed trained on its intended target.

Raising an eyebrow as he did, Davos spoke, "We both know you won't. You at least have the sense to understand the consequences of that action. Besides, I don't have much to live for anyway."

Out of nowhere, Roose almost shouted, "Why are you doing this?"

Taken aback, Davos leaned back, "Why what? Investigate you?" He shook his head, "Isn't it obvious?" He let the silence linger between them, eyes glued to the handgun still pointed at his brain. Eventually, he continued speaking, "Three men will come tomorrow to get fingerprints of this whole place, don't interfere, just relent."

Davos didn't push him further. Wordlessly, he opened the door behind him and stepped out.

As soon as he was gone, Roose cursed out loud, "Motherfucker!" He threw his head back and stomped his foot. His chair almost broke down as he all but collapsed into it. The gun hit the top of the desk so hard it almost went off. Putting his head in his own hands he knew what he had to do.

Tywin picked up immediately, "Roose? What happened?"

Roose covered his face in shame even though he's by himself. Loosely holding the phone, he muttered into it but not loud enough.

"What was that?" Tywin grunted. "Speak up, damn it!"

"Seaworth was here."

"And?"

"It… ah… didn't go well."

"Roose…" Tywin's audible sigh could be felt through the earpiece. "What in seven hells happened?"

"He knows."

"What exactly does he know?" Somehow, Tywin's voice didn't have any inflection.

"It was like he was here when it happened. For fuck's sake, he saw through everything," Roose seethed. The realization of his failure zoned in on him.

On the other end, Tywin resisted the urge to throw the cellphone against the wall.

" _What_ does he know, Roose? What?"

"We severely underestimated this guy, he came prepared. I didn't specifically give anything anyway but whatever I said he had a counter and I don't think he believed a damn thing I told him," Roose grumbled. "Someone must have squealed, it's the only thing that makes sense."

"It's wasn't supposed to be this way," Tywin replies. "The Hound would've handled this if I could've got him to investigate instead of Seaworth. This… is a real complication."

"What are we gonna do?"

"Where's Seaworth now?"

"He just left."

Roose had to take his ear away from the phone after he heard a loud crash of glass shattering. Obviously, Tywin just chucked his tumbler of bourbon against a nearby wall. It was a long while before anyone spoke again.

"You… let him leave?" Tywin breathes into the phone, the noise of his breathlessness coming through.

"What? Do you think I should've killed the man? Gods, Tywin, if I had murdered the man the Starks would shoot me as soon as I set foot outside," Roose scoffs like it's common sense.

"Does he know that I was there?" Tywin almost yelled.

"No… well… he suggested that… Fuck. It's possible, he asked to see the gun that killed Ned, I didn't have yours, of course, so I showed him mine. Just my luck that mine had been in the fucking drawer for months, the motherfucker figured that out somehow."

"Davos Seaworth was a cop for twenty-seven years, he knows the damn difference between a gun that was fired recently and those that weren't," Tywin said. Starting to sound exasperated, something like a balloon with a hole in it. "You have made a grave mistake, perhaps I placed too much trust in you."

"Tywin—" he couldn't finish because the other end hung up.

* * *

Davos stepped out of the elevator onto the ground floor. He immediately headed back to Barbara.

She pales when she sees him, "Oh my, Mr. Seaworth, I made a mistake."

"Certainly not, Miss Barbara," Davos shakes his head. He leans on the counter and gets his pad back out. "I just have one question for you, I'll be out of your hair in a minute."

Barbara takes a deep breath, "Okay."

"After Ned Stark went up on the lift, did anyone else of interesting go up after him? Perhaps an older gentleman?"

The silence of Barbara said all it needed to say. Davos slowly nodded, her face twisted into a horrified expression. He leaned further forward, "Did you see him, miss? I need you to say it."

"Who?" She whispered, her head snapped around to make sure one was looking at them.

"I believe you know of who I speak," Davos kept his low, but firm. "Tywin Lannister. Was he here, Barbara?"

Her mouth gapes, no words were forthcoming.

"This is very important, Barbara."

"Do you know what they'll do to me? My family?" She scowled.

"I know exactly what they will do. I'm fully aware. I was a cop for twenty-seven years, ma'am. I've seen all sorts of things."

"Then you know why I can't say."

"You don't have to say a damn thing, just nod," Davos explains. "I'll ask you again. I need you to nod if you saw him. Can you do that?"

"What about my family?"

"I'll tell you what to do. But we have to do this now. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Davos himself looked behind him and in his general vicinity for any onlookers. He felt like everyone who entered and exited the building was examining him. He quickly returns his attention to Barbara.

"Did Tywin Lannister enter this building?"

She nods slowly.

"He got here after Ned Stark?"

Another nod.

"Did he leave before the City Watch got here?"

She nodded.

"Okay, thank you," Davos put away his notepad and lays his palms on the counter. "Listen very carefully, as soon as I leave, you get up, you walk out. Is there a back exit?" He watched her nod. "Great. Leave out that way. Don't ever come back here. Go home to your family. Get your things together. Call the police station, give them my name. Say these exact words, ' _As I go, so will you_ ' Say it.

" _As I go, so will you."_

"Good, now, they will give you further instructions. Don't speak to anyone you don't completely trust. _Be safe,_ Barbara."

With that, he left her without another word.

As soon as Davos set foot outside, the warm city air was actually pleasant to his face. The wind brushed against his face, beard fluttering slightly, what hair that still lingered on the top his head moved as well. Giving the sensation of a full head of hair again, making him run his hand over his scalp to check if he hadn't suddenly grown it all back.

For a moment, he just stood there, watching the passerby. Several people walked in front of him, many in a hurry, as most are in King's Landing. Other strolled in a leisurely pace. One woman carried two bags full of groceries, and also was amidst an intense argument with a man walking next to her. A man held a boombox over his shoulder, blasting some form of music from it that Davos didn't comprehend.

He pulled out his phone, dialed Jon.

"Davos? What is it?"

"Listen closely," Davos started. "I don't have much time. I went to Bolton's penthouse. Everything I learned is written down on my notepad. Problem is, Roose didn't have the guts to shoot me but Tywin does. Someone will be coming for me and they must not get my notes."

"I don't understand," Jon said.

Davos began to walk down the street, "I'm going to the morgue as planned. But I'm going to dump my pad, you need to send someone to get it. Do you understand?"

"Davos, what the hell happened?"

"I found out more than I was supposed to. It's all written down in my notepad, its evidence, they _cannot_ get it. This is all you need to understand what happened to your father, get it?

"Yeah… yeah, I got it," Jon's voice sounded uneasy, yet firm at the same time.

"Alright, the pad will be by our regular spot, you remember?"

"Of course."

"As soon as I hang up, send someone to get it, it can't you or Robb, but someone you trust."

"Yeah, I got it."

"Alright," Davos looked behind him for anyone trailing. "I have to go. Listen… if I don't see you again-"

"Don't say shit like that," Jon interrupts hastily.

"Listen to me, boy," Davos snaps. "As I said, someone will come for me. Tywin must know what happened with Roose by now. He won't hesitate a second to have me killed."

"Why don't I send someone to get you?"

"Send someone to the morgue, I'll need to go there to keep up appearances. Also, I actually do need to go see your father's body," Davos replied with a grimace. He heard Jon speak to someone else.

"Alright, someone is on the way right now," Jon says.

"Good, I hope they drive fast."

"They do."

"I need to hang up, son," Davos sighs.

"I'll be seeing you, Davos."

"I sure hope so."

" _Be safe._ "

* * *

The fucking place smelled, appropriate maybe, though nonetheless irritating. Davos found himself covering his nose as he walked down the corridor. A combination of bleach, menthol, and formaldehyde carelessly filled the air and stung his nostrils. His surroundings reminded him of a hospital, yet somehow cleaner, but also an overwhelming sense of unkemptness. The wallpaper looked like a pale yellow, and the floor under his feet the whitest marble he'd ever seen.

Oddly quiet, it was. If anyone jumped out at him, he might soil himself. Or immediately deck the person for having the gall.

He spoke with a man when he entered the building about why he was here. After being told there wasn't any way he could see the former King of The Block's body a couple of different times, Davos had to mention who had put him up to this task. Name dropping Robb Stark, the current King, got him the room number of Ned's temporary resting place.

'1-0-2', he had said. At the end of the hall that Davos speed-walked down now.

He pushed his way into the room, once inside became extremely glad it didn't smell quite as bad. The interior remained quite similar to the hallway. Except for the wall of pull out trays that contain dead people. An older doctor stood in front of those, he regarded Davos with a curious expression. He hunched over, face grizzled, thinning gray hair.

"Excuse me, who are you?"

"Ah, Davos Seaworth," he walks toward him, extending his hand. But the doctor has no intention of taking it. So he takes it back and wipes it his jacket like had dirt on it.

"Why are you here, Mr. Seaworth? How did you get in here anyway?"

"What's your name, doctor?" Davos avoids the question.

"Pycelle."

"Dr. Pycelle, I'm here to see Ned Stark's body," Davos uttered, simply.

Pycelle scoffs, "What? Not possible, not for you."

Davos grumbles, "Do you know who I am?"

"I am aware of you."

"Do you know who sent me?"

"Robb Stark, I presume."

"That's correct, do you know who he is?" Davos added, with a smirk.

"He's King of The Block."

"Exactly, now… I'm here on business, you can probably guess that I'm handling the investigation of the death of Robb Stark's father. Right this second, you are impeding me. I must see the body to further my process," Davos explains.

"I understand that. But there are protocols in place that prohibit a person such as yourself to see a body in here. You don't have the clearance."

"I could care less if I have the damned clearance or not. I _must_ see the body."

"You will not."

Davos sighed, setting his briefcase down, pulling out his extra notepad, he started to write. His first pad was safely placed by the drop-off. Thankfully, Davos always keeps two notepads for this very situation. It would also seem very strange if he wasn't writing anything down.

"What are you doing?" Pycelle asked, leaning forward to get a better view.

"I'm writing your name down. You see, in my old age, I have trouble remembering these sorts of things," Davos chuckles despite the grim situation.

Pycelle rocked back and crossed his arms. As Davos continues to write.

"Okay," Davos cleared his throat and returned his pad back. He held up three fingers, "Either three things are going to happen. One, I'm going to open all these drawers until I find Ned and examine him. Two, you assist me in finding his body and examination. Or three, I pull out my cell phone, call some… assistants of mine to come down here. No matter what, I'm taking a look at the body. I know your name, Pycelle, I know the Lannister's fill your pockets. I don't care about any of that. So, what's it's gonna be?"

Pycelle trembles, like the old man he is. He opens his mouth to speak but Davos isn't done yet.

"Oh, one more thing, I forgot to mention. My people know that I am here. I'm supposed to be leaving here at a certain time and if I don't walk out of here then. Well, they'll know something happened to me. I tell you that in case you've already spoken to the Lannisters or they've called you about potentially harming me," Davos smiles.

"Oh, well, I think I'll go with option two," Pycelle says as he quivers.

"Great choice."

"Ned Stark, middle far left," Pycelle tells Davos, nodding towards it.

Davos pulls open the corresponding drawer, indeed, Ned Stark lay inside. Much paler than the last time he saw him. He got his pad and pencil back out, shaking his head all the while. Pen at the ready, he asked Pycelle, "What was his condition when he got here?"

Pycelle's voice unsettled, "Yes, well, he died at the scene. He'd been shot four times."

"Where?"

"All in the upper, lower body."

"Where are the bullets?"

"One went clean through, The Watch has it surely. Ah… the other three were left embedded in him, I retrieved them."

"Caliber?"

"9mm, I believe."

Davos nodded his head slowly, eyes scanning over Ned. There were indeed four entry wounds. There wouldn't be any way he could've survived even if he had immediate medical attention. He couldn't help but frown at the thought of Ned Stark dying like this. Sprawled out on the carpet of a sworn enemy, shot to shit, and bleeding to death. Not the way a man of his stature should've gone out.

His eyes wandered back to Pycelle, who looked even more nervous than before. He moved to stand in front of him, "Is there something you want to tell me? Now is the time." He'd planned on opening his mouth to say something, but he became very much unable after something collided with his head at a high speed.

Of course, the older gentleman clambered to the floor. All kinds of dizzy, but still cognizant, the biggest man he'd ever seen lumbered over him.

The large exchanged some words with Pycelle, but Davos was so incoherent he had no clue what they said.

Then, at some point, he closed his eyes.

It all went black.

* * *

 _ **Please do leave a review so I know someone is reading this. It can be anything even if it's just one word. It helps.**_


	16. Find Him

**Chapter 16: Find Him**

* * *

Ramsay led the way, kicking the double doors in. His cohorts trailing closely behind him, Polliver and Locke were fucked up pretty bad by Jon. Locke was able to recover, but Polliver's collarbone was completely shattered and his arm may never work right ever again. Therefore, Amory Lorch tagged along on this venture.

Ramsay himself had returned to full form with some rest, though his face still sported some bruises and soreness abound his body at times.

This adventure at hand happened to be a visit to a local school. To be exact, a school that the Stark and Baratheon children attend. The three of them entered the school. More men waited outside to enter in later.

Being as Ramsay was or rather _is_ Sansa's boyfriend, he's privy to the school she goes to. What classes she has every day, and where her classrooms are.

This particular morning, Sansa had a biology class upstairs.

The hallways were empty currently because the class was in session. All is silent as Ramsay blissfully skipped the down the hall, humming a tune. Banging his fist against the lockers lining the walls. He never did graduate high school. He dropped out of this very same school to pursue more devious pursuits. Lorch and Locke trailed him, both looking at each other in utter confusion.

As he passed by classrooms he waved at those who made eye contact through the glass pane in the door. Ramsay finally stopped in front of a winding staircase leading to the next floor up. He scampered up, skipping a step with every leap. Once he stepped up, his head snapped back and forth to each end of the hall. Which way to proceed, he momentarily forgot. It was the sound of her voice that drew him to her. Seconds later, his form stood in front of the door. The wood the only thing separating him from her. He glared at her through the glass pane resting in the oak. Deciding now is a good a time as never, he turned the knob and entered the room.

It went hushed, everyone regarded him with scowls. Sansa, even more, horrified to lay her gaze on him. Her classmates quickly started to mutter amongst themselves.

Ramsay held his arms out, "Oh, my dear Sansa, I've come for you."

Near the wall opposite him, the teacher's desk sat. The professor rose from his chair, hair covered lip upturned, glasses adjusted, he spoke up, "I don't know who you think you are, but you need to leave immediately."

Locke and Lorch came in swiftly over to the man, they crowded him.

The professor cowered, "What is the meaning of this?"

"Take him," Ramsay smirked, then laughed as his goons began beating on the poor man.

Bringing himself in the center of the room, Ramsay began speaking, his finger wanders over to the beating, " _That_ is what happens when you step out of line. _That_ is what happens when you disobey." He kept his eyes on Sansa. Who really couldn't look more scared if she tried.

The Bolton moved to stand before her, "I've missed you." He whispered to her, grasping her chin.

She grimaced, "What are you doing here?" Wrestling her chin out of his fingertips in anger.

He leaned in over her and whispered, "You know exactly why I'm here."

Behind him, they couldn't even hear the cries of the teacher anymore. Yet the men kept kicking him. He lay face down, sprawled out like a ruffled carpet. Some of his blood spewed out on the floor.

"Make them stop," Sansa says, her gaze unable to leave her poor professor.

Ramsay crouches down to her level, eye to eye, "Stop?" He cocks his head to the side, "Why would they stop? The man was out of line."

"Just make them stop!"

Ramsay shrugs, "I don't feel like it."

In a fit of rage, Sansa stands up and slaps Ramsay straight across his face. Anger boiling up to the surface, she acted without thinking.

Chuckling, Ramsay brushed his fingertips over the brand new sore spot on his cheek. He said, "Babe, you just made a real mistake."

Before Sansa could retort, Ramsay rose up rapidly, grabbing her by a full fist of her hair. He dragged her kicking and screaming towards the door, any students in his way smartly got out of his path.

Locke stopped stomping on the teacher and went to open the door for Ramsay. Once the four of them were outside the classroom, Sansa got pushed hard against the cold lockers.

Ramsay got up close, ragged breathing in her face. He tried to kiss her, their lips pressed together but Sansa bit down as hard as she could on his bottom lip until she tasted blood.

"Ah!" Ramsay recoiled, thumbing over his now bleeding lip. He looked to his men, "Go get the gas and get started. Remember, block the exits."

"What are you—" Sansa tried to say but was cut off by a hand to the face. Before she could try to recover, Ramsay got back in her grill again. This time, instead of trying to her kiss her, he just wiped his bloody lip across her cheek and neck, covering her in crimson. She cries out in horror, reacting by giving him a knee to his groin.

He backed up, clutching his crotch. Groaning, he muttered, "Bitch, I should take you right here."

Sansa took this as her chance to make a break for it, taking off down the hall. To her immense surprise, Ramsay caught up with her rather quickly. He tackled her down to the floor, knocking the wind out of her. He laid on top of her, pressed tightly against her back. His mouth got right up behind her ear, he whispered, " _I love it when they run_." She whimpered as he nibbles on her ear lobe. "I could take you right now, in front of all your friends. Would you like that?"

Deciding to pull her up by her neck, arm wrapped around, he drug her over to the stairs. Air leaving her lungs, passing out seemed like a bad idea. He considered tossing her down, but after that, she'd be too weak and the fight drives him. However, he did brush his tongue over her neckline. The sensation sent shivers all the way down her spine to her feet, under the right circumstances it might've felt pleasant. Clearly, this was not the right circumstances.

"Help! Someone!" Sansa cries out, tears dripping from her cheeks onto the floor.

" _No one is coming for you_ ," Ramsay breaths into her ear.

Now, Ramsay picks her up and slings her over his shoulder. Then starts down the stairs, Sansa kicking and screaming all the while, desperately trying to break out of his grasp, to no avail.

When they stepped out onto the ground floor, loud sounds attacked them. The crashing of the lockers down before every door, blocking the only way out of the rooms. The extra guys came in, three teams, some spread gallons of gasoline everywhere, others tumbled the lockers over. Lastly, a couple of guys carried guns in case any students or teachers got rowdy.

In fact, some did. Three teachers came bursting out to see what was going on. Two of them were flat-out shot, the third beat senseless and tossed back in their classroom.

A conscious effort was needed for Ramsay not to slip and fall, being as though the floor became so slick from all the gas. He ambled down towards the exit.

"Time to go!" Ramsay yelled.

Smelling the gas, Sansa gasped, "What is this? What are you doing!?"

Ramsay giggles, "Ooh… you'll see."

All his men gathered behind him as they exited the building, everyone cheering. Ramsay slung down Sansa on a patch of grass by a tree out in front of the school. She backed up against the thick trunk, seeking protection. He got a blunt out and lit it up with his lighter, breathing heavy.

Locke came over next to him as he took a pull. He hands the lighter over to Locke. Sansa's eyes stuck on Locke as he went back over towards the front doors.

Ramsay crouched down, he gripped her chin again so she'd be forced look at him. He blew a plume of smoke in her face. "I want you to watch this. You've brought this on yourself."

"Me? What did I do?"

"You betrayed me. You stepped out of line, babe," He sucked on the blunt.

"Don't call me that."

"I'll call you whatever I want. You're _mine,"_ Ramsay growls, puffing more smoke at her, picking her up to face her towards the school. One arm wrapped around her neck, but not tight enough to choke her. Using his free hand to take one last pull of the blunt, he held the smoke in. He considered just tossing the blunt away, but a more useful idea came to him.

Sansa cried out in pain as the scalding hot bud pressing to the flesh just behind her ear, emotion pouring out of her eyes like a waterfall.

" _You feel that? Your very own mark, you're mine,"_ Ramsay snarls, exhaling the fumes against her neck as well. Once the blunt was sufficiently put out, he threw it out his shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'll kiss it better later… among other things," Ramsay laughs. The other arm now pressed tightly against her chest to keep her in place. They watch as Locke kicks open the door, flicks the lighter open and tosses it inside.

The flames were immediate, bursting out from the door with such heat Locke had to leap away.

Ramsay caressed Sansa's cheek, "You see that? Your family is in there. Your brother, little Rickon has a class on the bottom floor, his door is blocked by a set of lockers that weigh five times his weight. Your sister, Arya, she's got a class on the same floor as you. But by the time she tries to go downstairs, the fire will be too far gone to stop. They're going to die, Sansa, along with all the other kids inside."

Tears streamed down Sansa's face, the heat from the building reaching out to tickle her cheeks. The thought of losing her siblings was too much to take, if not for Ramsay holding her up, she'd crumble to her knees.

Of course, this is the largest school in the city. Therefore there are many other sections of it with entirely different structures. Nonetheless, this was the only building targeted.

Sansa prayed the sprinkler system would kick on. What she didn't know was that Ramsay had disabled them. He'd never tell her that though, the false hope pleased him.

An SUV pulled up next to a curb nearby, Ramsay tugs her to it.

"Do you know why I did it?" Ramsay asked her, not waiting for an answer. "I _wanted_ to, it felt good because I could. Merely having the ability to act it out drove me, it was… irresistible."

Sansa halted them, saying, "If you're going to kill me, get on with it."

He straightened her, "Kill you? What? I don't want to kill you, you are far too much fun to kill. Plus, I haven't had you in a while." He laughed before he tossed her in the truck.

They sped off as the building burned, sirens audible in the distance.

* * *

Robb sat in the dining room by himself, at the head of the long table. Twiddling his thumbs as he waited for his breakfast. He stared at the chandelier slightly swaying back and forth. With no one here to talk to, boredom came over him.

Sansa, Arya, and Rickon had gone to school, Bran hiding up in his room like he always does. He stopped going to school some time ago.

Jon had gone out looking for Davos, who had turned up missing. Though they did get his notepad, the two of them would go over it together when Jon returns.

Mind wandering, Robb leaned back in his chair. His fingers ran over his wound, where the bullet had entered him. It's still a tender spot, hadn't fully healed at this point and that upset him. He still feels wounded, and weak.

His hands subconsciously raked through his curls, his beard after that.

Mr. Luwin came in carrying a tray with Robb's food on it.

Sitting back forward, Robb's mouth started to water, "Ah… finally."

Silently, Luwin sat the tray down in front of him, three scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and hash browns. Robb immediately dug in. Though Luwin stood over him, with a solemn look about his countenance.

Robb noticed this, peering up at him, "Is something wrong, Mr. Luwin?"

Luwin opened his mouth first, but no words came out. He shook his head and gathered his thoughts.

"I'm so very sorry, Robb," he said.

"Sorry about what?" Robb laughed somewhat nervously, but still stuffed his mouth.

"I—"

Jon burst into the room, looking a bit sweaty. His eyes didn't find them at first, when he saw them he stepped up.

"I came as fast I could as soon as I heard— Robb, what the fuck are you doing?" Jon leaves his mouth agape.

Robb shrugs, "Breakfast," he chews. "Clearly, I'm missing something so fill me in."

"You haven't heard?"

"Apparently not."

"There… there was a fire," Jon blinked rapidly. "At the school."

"A school? What school?"

"The one our siblings go to, Robb," Jon tried to get the words out as quickly as possible.

Robb rose from his chair suddenly, fork clattering against his plate. Frown about his face, he sighed, "What happened?"

"We don't know exactly," Jon breathes. "Just that a fire started somehow."

Shaking his head, Robb turned away towards the window behind him. Putting his hands on his hips, he said, "Who the fuck would do this?"

"You think someone is behind this?" Jon retorted.

Luwin sneakily left the room, not wanting to be caught in the middle of this.

"I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, Jon," Robb scoffs, regarding him now.

Frowning, Jon replies, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I'm fucking telling you someone is trying to send us a message!"

"By burning our brother and sister's school? No, this was probably an accident, we aren't supposed to attack younger family members," Jon told him.

Robb's eyes went wide as he moved closer to Jon, "Brother, you have too much faith in our enemies. I think we may be past rules of the past."

Stroking his hairy chin, Jon contemplates, "I suppose it's possible. But we won't know for unless we go over there."

"What the fuck are we still standing here for?"

* * *

The site was grim, the whole frontal section of the building, entirely torched. Also, at least half way up the side of the structure sported darker browns and blacks as opposed to the usual red brick. The inside appeared to be a similar state. Hundreds of people crowded in the street, the Watch wouldn't let anyone that close. Sectioning it off with yellow tape, one officer standing every twenty feet or so make sure no one snuck in. Therefore, right before the doors, the fire truck pulled up onto the grass. Firemen had been coming in and out for what felt like hours. Twenty or so civilians had been rescued, more every few minutes, medical staff attended to them on the grass. The fire still burned hot, the flames bursting out of some windows on the second floor and above.

Horrifically, there's a bunch of tarps covering what appeared to be several bodies. All throughout the grass, sidewalk, and even into the street. An apparent relationship between these and the broken windows from the upper floors.

Robb and Jon stood directly before the yellow tape, surrounded by people, a few of their own men with them. It'd taken the strength of all the Gods to keep Catelyn back at the house once Robb told her what had happened. He forbade her from coming, saying it was too dangerous.

Leaning over to Jon, Robb snarled through gritted teeth, "Pieces, brother, whoever did this… left in pieces."

"Calm down, Robb, don't act too hastily, alright? We don't even…" Jon's voice trailed off, his eyes narrow on a petite girl being helped out down the stairs of the building. "Wait," Jon points his finger. "Is that Arya!?"

Her hair looked fried, skin blackened, expression solemn, nevertheless it could only be Arya.

Jon stepped under the tape and started towards her.

The cops yelled after him, moving to intercept.

"That's my sister, damn it!" Jon exclaimed not looking back.

Robb ducked under the tape right after Jon as he also recognized their sister. The four men with them nearly started a fight with the officers that got in there face.

Arya noticed Jon immediately, shedding the grip of firefighter grasping her. She took off in the direction of her brother. They met and embraced, the impact almost sent Jon down to the earth below his feet. He hugged her tight, and she did the same. His nose brushed against her hair, the smell of smoke seeping through her locks. She buried her face in his chest, hoping to hide her apparent tears that suddenly started flowing as she finally found the comfort of her brother.

Still tied together, Jon leads her away from the carnage and near a tree. He asked her, "Arya, what the hell happened?" His eyes scanning the burning building before him. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, rare emotion out of the youngest female Stark. They felt Robb approach, he got the same treatment from Arya once she set eyes on him.

"Hey, it's alright," Robb whispered, stroking his sisters head. "You're safe now."

Jon looked around, somewhat helplessly. Praying he'd see Sansa or Rickon in all these people behind him.

He didn't see his brother or sister.

"Arya," He turned to her. "What happened in there?" An attempt was made to keep his voice low and not too forceful. He watched as his sister retreated from Robb's warm arms and regarded her brothers.

"It… We were just... " She began, trying to find the words. The typical strongwilled Arya wasn't around right now. "It got hot. Like really hot, then the teacher went out in the hallway to see the other students and teachers asking the same questions. We all quickly realized there's a fire going on below our feet. The flames reached the stairs, we were trapped. We had nowhere to go. Except up."

"What?" Jon frowned.

"The fire escape was a couple of floors up, and we couldn't go down the stairs. So we all tried to get to the only way out of the building. But there was so many of us… trying to get out. It took a long time, eventually, the fire from downstairs got to our floor. Some got caught in it… or leaped out a window," she explained, shuddering all the while.

"Seven fucking hells," Robb gasped, running hands through his curls.

"Some that jumped from the second floor made it, maybe a broken foot or ankle if that. But… from the third and fourth floors…" Arya's words left her again.

Jon's eyes became glued to one of the tarps covering a student. Then the broken windows above, his vision blurred a bit as he saw some movement. Suddenly, a kid, not couldn't be older than twelve, jumped onto the window pane. The firefights might've been able to catch him if they were paying attention, but burning to death wasn't appealing. Jon grabbed Arya and turned her away as the student took flight. He crashed against the pavement with an instant bloody impact. Being as though the leap was from four stories up, the chances of survival weren't great. Every person surrounding the school cried out in agony as people attended to the child, hopelessly checking for a pulse. The sound of the boy's bones snapping transcended miles.

Jon lead Arya further away, under the yellow tape. She clutched him even harder than before, he looked back to Robb and said, "Find Sansa and Rickon."

Robb froze, not particularly fond of being told what to do, but nodded and went back to the fire. He scanned the crowd before him, no one in particular stood. Waving his hand, his men came near him, he didn't look at any of them, yet he commanded, "Ask around about my sister and brother, find out anything you can."

They left swiftly and molded into the crowd.

He did notice a policeman holding a clipboard, writing on it. The man didn't appear important in sort of way, but he was alone, also seeming to be examining the building. Robb approached him as the fire still raged.

The man didn't look up as Robb stepped into his space.

"How'd the fire start?"

No answer just kept scribbling.

"I asked you a question," Robb said, putting more force in his tone.

"You shouldn't be inside the yellow tape, do I need to have someone escort you?" The policeman seemed to very interested in whatever he was writing. But he finally peered up, "Who do you think-" His eyes widened as they set on Robb.

Robb stuck his hands in his pockets, swaying back and forth. Trying to appear casual, "You know who I am?"

"I-"

Sticking a finger out to turn the man's nametag towards him, Robb saw his title was Officer Jacobs.

Jacobs recoiled, "What are you doing here?"

"My siblings go to this school. How'd the fire start, Officer Jacobs?"

Jacobs narrowed his gaze, clearly not wanting to give away much. "We don't know."

"Why not?"

"The fire still hasn't been fully put out yet, as you can see," Jacobs scoffed. "It's hard to tell at this time."

"Take a guess," Robb shrugged.

"Ah… I'm not an expert."

Robb grew tired of beating around the bush, he moved closer to Jacobs. He's taller than the man, so he hung his head down. As an intimidation tactic, it worked wonderfully, Jacobs' face paled to white as the moon. Robb didn't speak at first, just letting Jacobs feel his commanding presence.

"Listen to me carefully, Jacobs," Robb began, deciding to layer his voice with malice. "I'm very good at remembering names, I won't forget yours. Now… what can you tell me about this fire?"

Jacobs found some confidence, "Are you threatening me?"

"You… are in my way, impeding me. You must know the power I have. You can be someone today and no one tomorrow if I want it that way," Robb says. "So, yes I am threatening you. Is it that obvious?"

"You have no power here," Jacobs replies, standing up straighter.

"Hmph… I believe my enemies were behind this fire. My sister made it out… but my other sister and younger brother were supposed to be in the building. You have an opportunity to assist me here, don't you want to do that?" Robb said, trying to get what he needs to know proved harder than he first imagined. "Trust me, you don't want to make an enemy of me. I'm just a family man, worried about my siblings, what's wrong with that?"

Jacobs sighs, backing up out of Robb's space. He looked at the fire and then back to Robb, he shook his head before he spoke, "You didn't hear this from me."

Robb held his hands up with a smirk broad across his face, "Of course not."

"When we got here the fire had been burning for a while, it started on the bottom floor," Jacobs pointed out with his finger. Robb's eyes followed the sight line. "Everyone on the bottom floor that was close to the door we got out, those in the back… not so lucky. Right now, the fire is mostly contained to the upper levels, it's a godsend parts of the foundation haven't collapsed yet."

"I'm confused," Robb half-laughed. "Why weren't you here earlier, did the fire alarms not go off?"

"That's Just it… we got a call from someone on the street," Jacobs nods slowly.

"Fuck," Robb breathes heavily, turning away from Jacobs. Watching as the firemen began to use the hose from their truck to shoot a plume of water into one of the windows. Silently spending a Hail Mary of prayer that Rickon and Sansa made it out, hoping it didn't fall on deaf ears.

Jacobs' voice brought Robb's attention back to him, "At this point, we believe the alarms were disabled. That's why everyone inside didn't have any warning, also, some of the classrooms on the ground had their doors blocked by lockers."

"This wasn't a freak accident, Officer. This was arson, someone started this fire on purpose," Robb said.

"Yes," Jacobs nods. "That is our assessment."

"What about my family?"

"Give me their names, and some kind of description, they may have already been taken to the hospital," Jacobs replies, lifting his clipboard.

Robb stepped closer again, "Sansa Stark, she's a junior or senior… She is 17, red hair, just shorter than me, but quite tall. My brother, Rickon, she's in the eighth grade—" He stopped once Jacobs countenance darkened significantly. "What is it?"

"You said… red hair, about 17, pretty tall?" Jacobs said, eyes scanning over the clipboard.

"Yeah," Robb whispered.

Jacobs cleared his throat, "A girl matching that description was seen being dragged from the building and forced into an SUV right before the fire started." He didn't meet Robb's eyes as he spoke

Breathing became quite audible for Robb as his blood began to boil. Face contorting into a scowl, "By whom? Who took her?"

"We don't know, a lot of people were here."

"They had marks on their necks, I know they did. Which ones?" Robb already knew the answer but he needed to hear it.

Jacobs mulled around the decision in his brain, whether or not to tell The King of The Block something he clearly already knows. Yet, it didn't seem like a choice if he ever wanted to see his family ever again. A singular word left his lips:

"Bolton."

Closing his eyes, an utter sense of failure fell on Robb. Sansa got taken because of him, it's all his fault. When his lids lifted again, Jacobs clearly noticed his distress.

"What about Rickon? My brother?"

"Uh…" Jacobs looked back to his notes. "We haven't found a child resembling your brother… yet."

Robb nodded slowly, pursing his lips, he laid a hand on Jacobs' shoulder. "Thank you for your service." With that, he walked away from the man with no intention of turning around even if spoken to. Perhaps he'd choose to forget his name, or perhaps not, maybe he could be of some use. He saw Jon approaching him without Arya.

The younger brother stepped up, asking, "What'd you find out?"

"Where's Arya?" Robb brooded, tone low.

"In the truck… Is something wrong?" Jon replied, raising his eyebrows. "What'd you find out?" Hoping repeating his previous question would provide an answer.

Hanging his head, Robb exhaled, "It's not good."

"What is it?" Jon raised his voice, desperately wanting some info.

Robb decided to parallel the answer given to him by Jacobs, "Bolton."

Hitting his fist in an open palm, Jon's expression flared up, "Goddamn it, I shoulda fucking killed him." Then he started to pace back and forth, suddenly needing to punch something. Even though flexing his right still brought some pain after nearly breaking it against Ramsay's cheekbone.

"Yeah," Robb agrees. "You fucking shoulda."

Immediately, Jon pulled his phone out so violently he nearly dropped it. Angrily banging Grenn's number into the keypad, he put it to his ear. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait too long, Grenn picked up the first ring.

"Jon? What's up?" Despite quickly answering, He sounded like he'd literally just woke up.

Jon peeked a glance at his wristwatch, and answered, "Why aren't you with us right now?"

"I… uh… Had a rough night."

"Get the fuck down here right now," Jon sighed. "I need you to do something for me."

"Yeah, anything."

"Put the goddamn word out, Ramsay Bolton, find him, I need him alive," Jon says, staring at Robb, who nodded at him. "I've got unfinished business."

"Did… something happen?" Grenn voice hitched

"You're fucking right something did. That motherfucker is going to pay for it too. Find out where he is, let me know as soon as you can," Jon growled. He turned away as one of their men came up to Robb, they started speaking.

"I'm on it," Grenn says, his shuffling to get pants on audible.

"You better be… listen, he's got Sansa. So, be careful."

"Seven hells, Jon… Alright, I'm on it."

Jon didn't bother responding, just ending the call. Expecting to see Robb when he turned back around but he wasn't there. Fortunately, Robb was easy to spot. He leaned over a gurney, blocking the view of whoever laid strapped in. Though Jon didn't need to see to know, taking off in a sprint until he made it there. Once he stepped around some people, tears threatened to fall, little Rickon, he looked lifeless. His teenage form limp, skin three shades darker than it should be. Clothes are torn and burnt to shreds, even some of his light brown stresses torched. He's awake though, his reddened eyes glued to Robb. Jon forced his body next to Robb.

The tiniest Stark noticed him, only his pupils moved to regard him. Jon reached out and took his head, "Hey, big man, it's gonna be alright, okay?"

Robb brushed his fingers through Rickon's hair, not bothering to resist the tears streaming down his cheeks. "You're so strong, Rickon. You'll be alright."

Rickon didn't appear to physically be able to respond, only blinking several times at them.

Two paramedics appeared out of nowhere to wheel Rickon away to an ambulance that came to rest on the curb nearest them, Robb and Jon followed.

"Is he going to be okay?" Robb sniffled.

One of them said, "We need to get him to the hospital, okay? We not sure until we get there, but he inhaled a lot of smoke." The two of them lifted Rickon into the back of the ambulance, "Are you family?"

Robb put his hand on his chest, "I'm his brother."

"You can ride if you want, but we need to go."

Not taking a second to think, Robb climbed up. As the doors closed, he locked eyes with Jon and said:

" _Find him_."

* * *

 _ **Thanks for reading.**_

 _ **I'd really love some more reviews, they are life.**_


	17. All but Dead

**Chapter 17: All but Dead**

* * *

As soon as the SUV sped off, it all became a blur for Sansa. She fought at first. She really did. But after being hit so many times she forgot her name, it became difficult. That was a small mercy because she probably won't remember what happened to her. In the long run, not knowing might be better.

After using Sansa up like a snot rag, Ramsay tossed her into a dark room. Saying, "Babe, you really did a number on me. I need a timeout, I'll come for you later."

The door shut, taking all the light with it. She lay face down on the floor, her cheek told her it was tile. The room felt cold, almost like she fell into a freezer. Her eyes were closed but opening them would do no good anyway. It's pitch black.

Her body feels weak, even if she wanted to move, she couldn't.

Sansa really didn't remember much of anything. Ramsay came at her as soon as he could, and she tried to bear her teeth. Biting and clawing, even soiling herself in defense, that only hardened his resolve. At first, he had tried to be gentle, he even asked for it. When she denied him, his pleading turned into a fist. He punched her so many times… after the seventh or eighth hit, she was mostly unconscious.

After that, one can only assume the worst. But she didn't know what happened.

In reality, Ramsay took her three times. After that, Locke and Lorch took turns. Then, Ramsay came back. They all laughed, jeered, and high-fived each other as it happened. As they stripped her womanhood away, piece by piece. Tearing her clothes off, her body left marred, Ramsay made sure so she'd never forget. He wanted her to never forget that he owns her, that he's a part of her now.

A voice called out to her from the darkness, "Who's that? Who's there?"

The voice sounded familiar but she couldn't place it. The only reply she could make was a guttural cry, even though her body is weakened, tears began to pool in her eyes. Leaking onto the floor, her mind began reminding her what had happened to her.

The sounds of chains clanging together rang out. Someone's in the room with her, and they moved closer. Sansa tried to get out of the way, but her body wouldn't let her. Instead, her cry's intensified.

"It's alright," the voice said. Calm and collected, yet grizzled, they reached out to Sansa. "I can't see you, but I know you're there. I'm chained to the wall. I can't get all the way to you. Can you move?"

Sansa finally formed some words, "N-no… I can't."

The silence spoke leagues, the voice called back out again after some long emptiness. "I recognize that voice. Who are you?"

The wounded woman only had to make a sound that resembled her name, and the voice knew it.

"Sansa!" The voice said like it was an answer to a question that won him a million dollars. "Sansa Stark, I knew that hair looked familiar. I only saw it for a split second. Listen to me, Sansa, I'm a friend of your brother's. My name is Davos Seaworth."

Another pain filled cry came from Sansa, she tried to move again, this time her limbs obeyed. But only for a moment, she lifted up slowly only to fall back on her face.

Davos threw several questions at her.

"What happened to you, Sansa? What did he do to you, Sansa? What did Ramsay do?"

Part of her knew, but she couldn't utter it even if she wanted to. Everything hurt, from her toes to her ears, aching like she'd been running for weeks straight. The only thing that came easy was crying, her tears pooled under her face. She almost wished it'd be enough to drown her. Life doesn't feel like it's worth living.

"Seven hells," Davos said. Putting the pieces together in his brain, "Sansa, he's coming back eventually, and he'll keep coming until he's had his full. Do you understand? You need to move."

But there's nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

* * *

What Starks were left, gathered around Rickon's bed, his mother laid her head on his chest and softly cried. Arya had said several times that she was fine, and refused any treatment. Still, every once in a while she'd cough, smoke still lingering in her lungs. But she wasn't directly in the fire for an extended period of time.

Rickon, however, was.

Robb sat in a chair next to the bed, his hand grasped his younger brother's. As he had been doing for hours, ever since he climbed into the back of the ambulance. Arya pace back in forth before the bed, with Jon leaning against the far way, blood boiling. His phone clutched tightly in his palm, awaiting any news on Ramsay or Sansa.

Bran had yet again preferred to be left in his room.

"Where's Sansa?" Arya asked the room.

"We don't know," Robb whispered, keeping his eyes on Rickon.

"I've got everyone out looking for her," Jon grimaced. "We'll find her."

Catelyn slowly lifted her head, and glared at Jon, "You better."

"It's not Jon's fault, mother," Robb said.

"Doesn't matter," Jon shrugged, nonchalantly. "She'll blame me all the same as always."

Eyes widened, Catelyn rose, "Why are you even here? You should leave."

Shaking his head, Jon said, "I'm not going anywhere."

"I want you to-"

"He's not leaving, Mom," Arya went to stand next to Jon. "He has every right to be here."

Catelyn planned on arguing further, but Rickon coughed, halting her. All eyes went to him, everyone moved in close.

"Rickon? Honey?" Catelyn whispered, putting her hand on her smallest child's cheek.

The littlest Stark opened his eyes, searching around for anything to latch onto. Then he began to cough harder.

"Arya, go find someone and tell them he's awake," Robb ordered, grabbing her by the shoulder.

"Yeah," she responded, leaving the room.

Rickon leaned forward, coughing a few more times. Catelyn laid her hand on his back, "Rickon, baby, are you okay?" The hacking stopped, for now, he laid back down. Trying to find a comfortable breathing pattern.

Eventually, he formed some words, "I'm… okay."

His mother smiled, tears appearing, she laid her head on his chest, stroking his head. "I know, baby. I know."

Robb got in close, a bright grin on his face, "We thought we lost you, little buddy."

Jon stayed back, arms crossed, but he smirked, "I knew you'd be alright, Rickon."

They heard Arya and the doctor before they even entered the room, Robb and Jon immediately moved out of the way. The same doctor who treated Robb appeared now, Doctor Ebrose. Who pulled Robb's chair closer to the bed and sat down.

"Rickon, my boy, how are you feeling?" he asked the young Stark.

"I… I'm okay, I think," a small, quivering voice exuded from Rickon. Physically, his body had been burned pretty significantly all around but specifically on his hands. Which were both heavily wrapped in gauze, the red bloody skin soaking the fabric.

Ebrose grumbled, then reached into his jacket, coming back with a small flashlight, "Stick your tongue out and say ah." Rickon did as he was bid. The weathered doctor shined the light down Rickon's throat, he nodded. "The swelling in your throat seems minor. Which is surprising, frankly." He leaned back into the chair, eyes jumping around the room to the family. "Rickon here inhaled a lot of smoke. He was in the building for quite a while. His skin has been damaged by the fire, we're not sure if… The skin may not appear… the same."

Catelyn sighed, covering her face, emotion flaring up. Robb and Jon just looked at each other with the same angry countenance. Arya's face stayed static.

Ebrose continued, "How is the pain, my boy?"

"It's… fine," Rickon had a weak smile. "Not too bad."

That's probably because many of his nerve-endings were severed, but Ebrose didn't mention that. Instead, he said, "All of this aside, I expect you will recover."

Everyone exhaled breaths they'd been holding in since Ebrose began speaking, Jon patted Robb on the back and they hugged briefly. Catelyn's tears kept flowing but she hugged her child. While Arya smiled, taking Rickon's hand.

Ebrose stood, "We can get you something for the pain, and you surely have some soot into your windpipe and lungs, so we'll have to run some tests." He motioned to everyone else, "Therefore, unfortunately, I am going to need you all to clear out for now."

"Sure, of course," Robb replied. He put his arm around his mother as the four of them left Rickon with Ebrose. "He'll be alright, Mom."

They went out in the hallway, Jon's pocket started to vibrate, he got it out as soon as possible. An incoming call from Grenn, he quickly flashed the screen to Robb. They locked eyes and nodded.

"Mom, Arya, let's go wait in the lobby."

Jon watched as the three of them walked away from him before he answered.

"Grenn?"

"Jon, it's me."

'What have you got?"

"I've been poking around, no one seems to know where Ramsay is." Hearing that, Jon closed his eyes, cursing under his breath. He began walking down the hall, trying to keep his conversation to himself.

"What does that mean? No one knows where he is?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Grenn sighed into the phone. "No ones saw the guy since they left the school."

"Well… where'd they go?"

"We… don't know, no one does. We've asked everyone."

"What do you know then, Grenn? I told you to call when you had something," Jon raised his voice, stomping his foot.

"I do."

"Don't fucking leave me in suspense then for fuck sakes, what is it?"

Grenn only needed to say one word: "Locke."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jon replied, "Where?"

"Someone saw him going in a bar about twenty minutes ago."

"Is he still there?"

"Yeah."

"Send me the goddamn address, and meet me there, bring three other guys."

"Gotcha."

Jon almost hung up there, but he said, "Grenn… bring your fucking bat."

"Always."

* * *

The sound of Jon's shoes clacking against the marble floor filled the waiting room. Desperately raking through his hair, trying to alleviate some tension. Robb saw him before he got close, leaving Catelyn and Arya to go meet him halfway. His face contorting as he noticed Jon's heated expression.

They stopped in front of each other, Robb whispered, "What is it?"

Jon sighed, "No one knows where Ramsay is."

" _Fuck,"_ Robb drawled, hitting his fist into his palm.

"But someone has seen Locke."

Eye widening, Robb asked, "Where?"

"At a bar."

"Alright here's what we do-"

"I'm going," Jon cut in. "It has to be me. You stay here." Robb opened his mouth to retort, but Jon kept speaking, "Robb, I have to do this. It's my fault. All this happened because I didn't end them when I had the chance."

The King of the Block glanced back to his mother and sister, then back to Jon, he sighed, "Alright, be careful."

Nodding, Jon replied, "I will."

"Find out what you can about Sansa."

"That is my first priority," Jon said, with tenacity to his tone.

"Okay, good," Robb huffed, pulling his brother into a hug. Which was returned, the older brother added, "Be safe, little brother… but make sure to _fucking gut_ that motherfucker after he tells you where Sansa is."

Jon recoiled from his brother with a frown, surprised by the apparent command. But he nodded nonetheless. With that, he stepped past his brother, headed to the door.

* * *

 _The Pickled Prick_ happened to be the name of the bar that Locke resided now. Apparently a frequent attendee, he was. Jon gathered with Grenn and the three other Stark men just down the block by an alley.

"Alright," Jon breathed, peering around the corner. He saw two men standing out front, purple and green lights from the bar coloring their backs. Clearly Boltons, even from this distance, Jon could see the flayed man on their necks. He turned back, "There are two guys down there, they are Boltons." Looking at Grenn, "You take one, I'll get the other, and fucking quietly. Once that's done, we're all going inside. Locke shouldn't be hard to locate… _He's mine._ Any other Bolton men you see… you take care of them. But wait for me… I'm taking point. With luck, this doesn't get too crazy, I don't think this bar is loyal to the Boltons. If it is… shit might hit the fan. The regular people should get the fuck out once they see this is gang-related."

His eyes shot to every man in front of him, staring until he got a nod from each of them. Most of them wore all black suits, Stark mark out in the open, each checked their gun. Grenn had a wide grin, rolling his shoulders back, clutching his bat so tight his chuckles paled.

"Okay," Jon gritted his teeth, he sported a black turtle neck and a supporting black suit. Inside his jacket, he wore a gun holster around his torso, which also held a combat knife. "On me."

After he spoke, he ducked around the corner. His men trailing. People walking towards them quickly got out of the way. Fortunately, the Bolton guards outside were too dull to see the force coming for them. Grenn stepped up and cracked the first one's skull, collapsing to the ground. Giving Jon the moment to bash the other guy in the face with his gun while he was distracted. Jon and Grenn dragged the two Boltons across the pavement and laid them down so they appeared asleep. Hoping no one was smart enough to notice the blood coming from their heads.

Kicking the door in was the initial idea, but Jon decided for a more discreet approach. Slowly, he pushed through the wooden door. Loud music battered his chest, people gathered directly in front of him, drinking, talking, and dancing. In the very back of the room, stood a small band, playing some folk-like tunes. To Jon, the sound is mostly dissonant. The standing bar is to the left, plenty of people line up and down it. At first, it's hard to pick out anyone in particular, being as it's also quite dark inside aside from the lights of the makeshift stage. The source of the purple and green lights, oscillating lights flash all around.

Suddenly, an audible laugh burst out into the open, Jon knows in seconds it's Locke. His gaze snaps directly to the Bolton man, who's clearly plastered, leaning against the bar. Downing shot after shot next to some other men, Jon slapped Grenn on the back to get his attention. Once he had it, he nodded towards Locke. Though he didn't pay attention to Grenn long enough to see if he had actually set eyes on Locke, Jon started making his way to his target.

Not bothering to say, 'Pardon me' to anyone he pushed by causing a few to yell after him. Jon neared Locke as he hassled the bartender for another drink. The employee appeared as though this had been a reoccurring thing over the past few hours.

Instead of outright shooting the man, Jon got up close. He leaned on the bar right up next to Locke, though he kept his head low.

The bartender called out to him, "Be with ya in second, friend." He motioned to Locke to explain himself. Jon simply nodded in understanding.

Locke continued to make a scene, "Give me two more shots… of vodka!" He slurred.

The barkeep replied, "You've had enough."

Pounding his fist on the counter, Locke scowled, "I'll be the one to decide that. Now… bring the shots."

"I told you no." The bartender came over to Jon, "Whaddya have?"

"Just a beer, whichever you think," Jon said, trying to keep his voice low. He felt Locke's gaze, but clearly, his drunkenness had muddled his senses. From this close, he should easily be able to recognize Jon. The beer came a few seconds later, Jon lifted it to his lips.

Locke hadn't stopped looking at him. "Do I know you?" He huffed out, the alcohol on his breath.

Slowly, Jon turned his face to Locke, saying, "Yeah… _you do._ "

It took Locke a few seconds, but he figured it out. His face lit up and he tried to yell, though as soon as his mouth lifted open, Jon smashed the beer glass on his face.

Locke crumbled to the ground, covering his face, beer going all over the place.

Everything stopped.

The bartender yelled, "Hey! What the fuck—" His voice faded away quick as Jon revealed his mark to him. Four men started coming at Jon, but they were knocked down by Jon's cohorts. The patrons either straight up ran out or got out of the way.

Locke removed his hands, hyperventilating, revealing the glass shards embedded in his flesh. Face becoming bloodier by the second. Now a scuffle broke out between Jon's guys and the Boltons broke out right next to them.

"Where's Sansa?" Jon growled through gritted teeth.

"Who?" Locke laughed. At that, Jon pulled him by his collar, then slammed his head against the countertop. Once back on the ground, kicking the back of his head into the floor. Locke cried out in pain as Jon kept his foot down, further forcing the glass to tear into the man's face.

"Where's Sansa?!" Jon yelled. "Huh? Motherfucker, where's my sister?" He picked Locke back up, and punched him in the gut, sending him back. The Bolton stayed on his feet, he took a swing at Jon. Which was blocked, and he took a fist to the nose for his troubles.

"Ah! Fuck!" Locke squealed, holding his now broken nose as it spewed blood. Jon took this chance to kick him in the chest, causing another fall to the floor. Locke crawled away on his back as Jon pressed forward.

"Where's Sansa?!" Jon asked again, this time with more malice.

"Oh… I remember, that bitch? What'd you want with her? She's all used up by now!" Locke taunted, laughing.

Jon yelled out as he stomped on Locke's kneecap as hard he could, likely sending it inward. By Locke reaction, it must have really hurt.

"You… motherfucker!"

Now, Jon kicked Locke across his cheek. After that, he stood over him, using his fists to pound the Bolton's face to paste. It caused both parties quite a large amount of pain considering the glass lodged in Locke's face was slashing through Jon's knuckles.

Once Locke seemed unrecognizable, Jon stopped. His body went limp, just laid on the floor. Jon rose up, breathing heavy. Grenn came up next to him, staring at the mess before him.

"Seven Hells, Jon, think you got him?"

Jon rubbed his bloody knuckles, "He's alive… for now. That's fine. Any of those other guys alive?" His eyes didn't leave Locke's battered face.

Grenn turned to the other Stark men behind them, who just shrugged at him, "Uh… Yeah, one or two?"

Nodding, Jon replied, "Pick one, make sure the rest are dead. We're taking Locke and one of the others back to the manse for questioning." Grenn's only reply was a grunt, when Jon finally turned around, the bar had completely emptied. Except for the barkeep, who cowered behind the counter. Sauntering over, Jon spoke to him, "Sorry… about all this. That guy kidnapped my sister… or helped. It doesn't matter."

"I gathered that," the bartender sighed, fear lingering in his voice.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you," Jon reassured, going over to the bar. "I do want another beer though, that last one was good." Behind him, Grenn carried Locke outside, with another Stark man toting a random Bolton. The other Stark man focused on crushing the windpipes of the beat up Boltons. Quicker than before, a beer sat before Jon. He gulped it down in a few seconds, "Ah… yeah, that's damned good."

"Thanks?"

Jon reached into his jacket and retrieved some bills. He started counting, "How much… You know what? Just take it all." The thick stack of bills got dropped on the counter. "For your troubles… now, I do have to ask. When the City Watch show up, whaddya gonna tell 'em?"

Wiping his brow, the man chose his words very carefully, "That a fight broke out in my bar."

"Yeah, yeah, what if they ask who the men were?"

"I won't say anything."

"No… I want you to talk. When the officers ask, say, 'The Starks had to take care of a few Boltons'. That's all you gotta say, I don't wanna have you lie. Because it's the truth, you see. That's all this was," said Jon, motioning to the scene behind him. "This is very important and it's for a reason. Say it back to me."

"The Starks had to take care of a few Boltons."

"Right on," Jon smirked. "Any further questions about who we were should earn the same answer. Now, what's your name?"

"Bill."

"Okay, Bill, I'm gonna remember your name. If I find out that you said anything different… someone's gonna come looking for you, understand?"

Bill shivered, "Yes… sir."

"Good man," Jon smiled, hitting his fist on the countertop. He turned to leave, "Maybe I'll see you around." Stepping over the bodies as he left, not looking back, by this time the SUV had been loaded up and pulled up next to the curb. He went over and got in the passenger seat. As soon as his ass hit the seat, the car took off, Grenn drove.

Sighing, Jon tried to comb the hairs that had been freed from his bun with his hands. Halting immediately as his hands began to heat up in pain, examining them, a few of his knuckles were completely torn open on his right and left hands.

"Fuck, that hurts," Jon cursed.

Grenn looked over at him, "Yeah… looks like it does." Watching as the crimson leaked onto Jon's pants.

"Ah… looks like you're gonna do the punching tonight," Jon said, clenching his fists. "I've had my fill for tonight."

"That I can do."

Even though it hurt like hell, Jon managed to get his phone out to call Robb.

Robb answered immediately, "Jon? What happened?"

"Well, I found Locke. He wouldn't tell me where Sansa was so I kicked the fuck outta him. We got him and another Bolton, we're taking 'em to the basement to beat it outta 'em. It's probably better that you, your mom, and Arya stay at a hotel or something," Jon winced at the pain emanating from his hands. "It could get really fucking nasty. These guys aren't gonna live but a few more hours."

"Shit, I don't get to punch the guy a few times?"

"No, you need to stay with Arya," Jon replied. "And Catelyn doesn't need to be anywhere near the house right now. How's Rickon? Don't they wanna stay with him anyway?"

"They still have a few tests to run. But the doctor said unless something unseen happens Rickon should recover. Mom has been by his side whenever they'd allow, Arya too. Yeah… now that I think about it, you're probably right."

"Man, that's great news," Jon exhaled in relief. "Though you seem to forget sometimes that I normally am right."

"Fuck you," Robb snorted.

"Fuck you, too," Jon scoffed.

"Alright, I'll get someone to find us a hotel. But you gotta take care of this shit by tomorrow," Robb sighed.

"I got it."

"Yeah… alright."

"No faith?"

"I have faith that you'll kill these guys before learning anything about Sansa," Robb grumbled.

"Shit, you shoulda seen me a second ago, I mighta beat Locke to death if I hadn't cut the shit outta my knuckles."

"That's not a great confidence booster."

"Look," Jon breathed. "I'm gonna find out what these motherfuckers know, alright?"

"Yeah."

"Alright, I gotta go."

"Bye."

* * *

Locke still hadn't awoken, but the other Bolton had, and being tied to chair in a dark basement hadn't improved his attitude. The other man was significantly younger than Locke, probably just a little younger than Jon. The two Boltons sat under the singular hanging light bulb just as Lancel Lannister had some time ago.

Jon had been given his own chair, in which he sat. Hands have been wrapped a dozen times over with gauze. Grenn stands behind him like always, by the tool bench.

The younger man begins to shake in fear, Jon scoffs, "Listen, boy, if you're scared, you should be. But don't piss yourself for fuck sakes. Be a man. You face death, yes, start to say your prayers now. Don't be dull, the two of you are _all but dead._ "

The man stiffens, "Fuck off."

Jon frowned, "What's your name, boy?"

"Kyle." The man replied, he had blond hair, cropped short. A long, unmemorable face, but he had bright blue eyes.

"Nice to meet you, Kyle. Where's my sister?"

"Fuck off."

"I'll ask again… where's Sansa?"

"Fuck you."

Jon shrugged, merely glancing back to Grenn as a call to action. Who stepped forward with his bat, striking Kyle across the chest, then the kneecap, and arm. Kyle groaned, hanging his head.

"Where's Sansa?" No answer. "Kyle, this is only going to get worse from here. Where's Sansa?"

"He asked you a question!" Grenn exclaims hitting Kyle on the skull with the head of the bat.

"I'm… not telling you a damn thing," Kyle moaned out, wincing in pain. Now, Grenn brings the bat down on the top Kyle's hand, likely savagely breaking it. That made the Bolton squeal, throwing his head back.

"Listen, Kyle, I'm not gonna lie to ya," Jon flexed his hands. "You're gonna die. It's just how. If you tell me right now, I'll put a bullet through your skull. It'll be real quick. But… if you continue to waste my time… you'll die slowly and in the most painful way possible. We got some gasoline around here, don't we Grenn?"

"Sure do, boss."

"How about we light you ablaze? Roast some hotdogs?" Jon growled.

Grenn leans in close to Kyle, "We put ya out too, then burn ya again, over and over again until there's nothing left of ya but bone."

"It's not your fault, Kyle. Ramsay is the one I want, he took my sister. If not for him you wouldn't be here right now. If this whole business with my sister wasn't a thing, I surely wouldn't be doing this to ya. You think I enjoy this?" Jon added, crossing his arms. "I don't. I assure you I don't. But when it comes to my family… I'll do anything. I'd torture you a thousand times over if it'd meant my people were safe. Now, I've got to find out where my sister is. Do you know where Sansa is?"

Kyle didn't answer, if not for the rising and fall of his chest, he'd appear dead. Grenn slapped his face back and forth to wake him. It worked, the Bolton sat up straight, horror stretched across his countenance.

"Where's Sansa?"

Fist to the gut.

"Where's Sansa!?"

Kyle has resorted to not speaking at all, he just stared at Jon. Who returned the stare.

"Grenn… get the pliers."

"Yeah, boss," Grenn responded, setting the bat down, moving behind Jon to the tool bench.

"Why the loyalty? What have the Boltons ever done for you?" Jon scoffed.

"They… helped me," Kyle finally said something. "If not for them… I'd still be scrubbing soup pans."

Hearing that, Jon frowned in confusion. Even Locke seemed to sit up now, he spat some blood onto the floor and said, "Shut the fuck up, boy." Talking to Kyle.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Locke," Jon smirked.

"Fuck you, Snow," Locke snarled. "You'll get nothing outta me."

"Oh… It's Stark now, but I know," Jon rocks back, pointing to Kyle. "That's why I got him. I know I'll get nothing from you. You're here to die, and fucking painfully." Taking that cue, Grenn returns from the darkness with the pliers. He grabs Locke's right hand, holding his ring finger, the pliers go under the fingernail. In one quick wrist flick, the nail flies off the finger.

"Ah! Fuck! Fuck you!" Locke grimaced, bucking the chair. If not for the hook attached to the back it might've fallen over.

"Grenn, go ahead with both hands, then maybe take his ear," Jon said, motioning to Locke. He looked back to Kyle, "I'm gonna talk to our other friend here." Scooting his chair closer to the other man, next to them, Grenn went to work on Locke. Whose screams pierced the eardrums.

Kyle has trouble keeping his eyes on Jon, "This is fucking crazy." Even though his face is painted with crimson, the tears falling stood out.

Jon slapped him, "Kyle, look at me, pay attention." Kyle listened, Jon kept on, "Listen to me, Kyle, I'm not a bad guy. I'm just a family man. _Nothing else matters to me, fucking nothing, you hear me?_ " Kyle nodded rapidly, "Your boss took my sister, my little sister… I have to find her, I have to get her back. Help me, Kyle, help me out, tell me something please." Jon was legitimately pleading. Kyle appeared as though he did want to say something, but he held it back. Almost like he could… relate.

By now, Locke didn't have any more nails left, the blood from his fingertips ran onto the floor. Yet, he still smiled through bloodstained teeth. "Y'know what's funny, Snow?" He began. "You can change your name all you want. But that doesn't change what you _are_. You're a _bastard_ , always will be." Grenn punched him in the throat for saying that.

Jon tried to ignore him. Regarding Kyle instead, who by this point was utterly terrified.

"Now, What was it you said about scrubbing pots?" Jon asked him. That sentence had stuck out, and by Locke's reaction, Kyle shouldn't have been talking about it. Even now Locke had a physical reaction to it, shaking all about, or it could be that Grenn's in the process of sawing the man's ear off with a jagged knife.

"I… I don't—" Kyle began to say, but Jon cut in.

"You don't what? Spit it out, boy," Jon told him, frustration clear. Grenn held out Locke's severed ear, he threw it on Locke.

"The Boltons picked me up after I did something for them."

"What'd you do?"

"Shut the fuck up, kid!" Locke cried out but still kept his eyes on his bloody ear on his leg.

"Ignore him… what'd you do?" Kyle hung his head, sighing. "Wait…" Jon frowned, sitting back. "Scrubbing pots? _Soup pots?"_ He examined the side of Kyle's neck where his mark resides. Slowly, Jon reached out and brushed two fingers along it. The skin is a little red and scabbing. Kyle looked up at him in utter puzzlement but also horror.

"You're… new," Jon whispered, face blank.

Grenn came over, "Who the fuck is this guy anyway?"

Next to them, Locke started to belly laugh, "You dumb bastards."

Rage boiling up, Jon turned to him, "Shut the fuck up!" Grenn had similar sentiments, hitting Locke in the face yet again.

Jon grabbed Kyle by the collar, reeling back with the other hand, ready to deliver a blow, "How'd the Boltons find you?" When Kyle still didn't answer, he yelled, "Tell me!"

Between huffs of labored breaths, Locke groaned out, "Go ahead, boy... I wanna see this fucker's face."

Kyle finally answered quickly once given permission, he said:

" _Corina's_."

Those words forced a retreat for Jon. Locke started cackling again, "Ha… you dumb fuck. He's the reason we knew where you and that bitch were. He and Ramsay are childhood buddies!"

"Holy shit," Grenn gasped, holding his hand above his head.

Turning away from them, Jon needed a second to process this. It didn't help that Locke kept on laughing. Kyle had begun to sob, who happened to single-handedly been the reason Jon and Dany were attacked.

Jon had been angry, so a few days straight now. Fuming for the last twelve hours… but now, right now, could tear someone's head off with his bare teeth. Bearing fangs, whipping back around, already having his pistol at the ready, he held it in front of Kyle's face. Who tried mightily to get out of the way but the barrel went where ever he did.

"I'll ask you one more time… Where. Is. Sansa?"

"Don't worry, pal," Locke grinned. "The bastard isn't shooting anyone. He doesn't have the stones." Taking that as a challenge, Jon quickly took aim at Locke's leg and fired. The bullet hit Bolton's thigh, the reaction wasn't unfamiliar to anything from earlier. Letting out a guttural cry, "Motherfucker! Fuck you, Snow."

"Shut your goddamn mouth, Locke."

"I bet you do wanna find that bitch, Sansa. But I dunno if you'll like what you see, we had her plenty this morning. I fucked her bloody, you see. We all did. Broke her in real nice, just for you," Locke smirked, feeling all giddy.

Grenn acted on his own, taking his bat, striking Locke straight on the chest. Probably shattering a number of ribs, puncturing a few vital organs. The hit fucked Locke up so bad, a steady stream of blood started pouring out of the mouth. Adding to the already massive mess of his crimson at the foot of the chair, his fingertips still dripped. There's so much iron in the air, if Jon keeps his mouth open too long he can taste it.

"Uh…" Locke coughed. "That one… fucking hurt."

Jon comes over to him, grabbing a full head of the man's thick black hair, twisting it, "Don't worry, there's plenty more to come." His head turns to Grenn, "You got the gas behind you?"

"Hold on…" Grenn sighed, moving to the tool bench. Behind it sat a canister of gasoline, "Yeah, it's here."

"Bring it here, and some matches," Jon ordered. He pressed the barrel of his gun into Locke's neck, hard, "As much as I'd like to shoot you here and now, you deserve much more. You don't deserve a quick death. _I'm gonna watch you burn_ , that's the death you deserve." He stepped away as Grenn stepped in, soaking Locke in the gas. So much so that the gas mixed with the pools of the blood on the floor. Locke helplessly tried to spit the gas out of his mouth but just kept coming. Once he's well and truly covered, Grenn backed up. Jon nodded, holding his hand out, the matches hit his palm, he took a second to return his gun to the hostler.

His shoes skidded against the floor below as he came to a halt before Locke. The first match of the box lit satisfyingly, the flame illuminated Jon's face, lighting up one side, leaving the other in the shadows. He flicked the match forward, the flame hit Locke on the leg, catching fire immediately.

Locke began to yell, " _Our blades are sharp, and a naked man has few secrets, but a flayed man as none!"_ In mere seconds, his entire body became alight. He screams filled the room. Kyle, being close, tried to get as far as away as he could. Jon and Grenn backed up, covering their faces.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Kyle exclaimed, tears running down his cheeks.

The screams stopped, and the wooden chair collapsed inwardly. Thankfully, everything around was concrete, and thus mostly fireproof. Yet, the fire still burned. For such occasions, a bucket of water was also kept in the basement. Grenn tipped it over on the fire revealing Locke's body, which is burnt crisply. Some features are still recognizable though, but for the most part, plenty of the skin has been seared off.

Watching all along, Jon now moved to stand before Kyle.

"You want that, Kyle?"

"No, no, please," Kyle cried.

"Then tell me where my sister is," Jon said, crouching down.

At first, it appeared like Kyle may still not reveal anything, but after a few moments of careful contemplation, and some more glances at Locke's torched body. He began to speak, "I don't know for sure, but, I picked Locke up at a warehouse by the docks… It was red. He talked about doing something with Ramsay… that's my best guess."

Jon nodded, then hung his head, "Grenn, look into that."

"Yeah," Grenn replied, running up the stairs.

Raising his head, Jon saw Kyle still crying, "You're scared."

"Of course I'm fucking scared!"

"How old are you?"

"Eight-teen."

"Why did you help the Boltons?"

"I needed the money…" He sniffled. "I'm broke and… I'm just trying to take care of my little… sister."

Jon's brow furrowed, "Sister?"

"Yeah, She's six and our mom died two years ago, our piece of shit Dad ducked out right after she was born," Kyle stomped his feet, crying even harder now. "Gods, I'm never gonna see her again. What is she gonna do?"

"Kyle… is that true? Are you lying to me?"

"Yes! Yes, I swear," Kyle replied, quickly.

"What's her name?"

" _Ally_ ," Kyle smiled, remembering fond memories. Pushing her on a swing at the playground, or taking her to their favorite ice cream place. "Seven hells, she's probably worried sick about me."

Jon sighed, looking away, "Goddamn it." He muttered.

"Please… don't burn me."

"Prove it," Jon winced. "Is Ally real?"

"My wallet is in my jacket pocket," Kyle blinked. "I've got pictures."

In just a few seconds, Jon had reached into Kyle's jacket and pulled out a wallet. Inside, he found three pictures. One of them he saw Kyle holding a little girl over his shoulders. The next one had just the two of them, at an aquarium, standing side by side in front of the polar bear exhibit. The last one featured them sitting at a table, sharing an ice cream cone. Ally looked about six, blue eyes, and dirty blonde hair. Just like Kyle. In all three photos, the two of them looked like they were having the time of their life. Smiling broadly, happily spending time together.

"Who took these?"

"Our Mom did, she was really into photography."

Jon brushed his fingertips over the last photo, remembering a time when he did the same thing with Arya. He laughed, "You look exactly the same."

"That's what Mom always said…" Kyle huffed, teary-eyed. "Can you make sure those pictures make back to her? Please?"

"Yeah, I can do that, don't worry, us Starks don't hurt little girls."

"Thank you," Kyle grinned, feeling much better despite knocking on death's door.

Standing down, Jon stored the wallet in his pocket, bringing his gun back out instead. At the sight of the gun, he had expected more tears from Kyle. But now the man locked eyes with Jon, pushing himself up straight in the chair.

Slowly, Jon raised the gun. Watching as Kyle closed his eyes, preparing himself for the end.

It wasn't easy, Jon thought it'd be automatic. Shooting a man.

He's beat men senseless. Shit, he just threw a match on Locke just a few minutes ago. He watched as the flames burned the life outta that motherfucker.

If Kyle hadn't mentioned his sister, he'd be dead by now. That's what's holding Jon back now, he realized.

"Who's gonna take care of Ally after you're gone?"

Kyle's eyes shot up in surprise, but attached to the end of the barrel nevertheless, he answered, "I'm not sure. Once they find out I'm dead… I guess child protective services. Or maybe Dad will come to get her."

"What's your Dad like?"

"A drunk. Beat on Mom a lot, he was in and out of the house plenty of times until he left for good."

"Fuck," Jon sighed, covering his face with his free hand. When his hand fell he had an idea, lowering the gun. "Kyle, listen to me, I don't wanna kill you… but I still can later."

"What?"

"I'm gonna let you go. You're gonna go to Ally, and you're gonna leave King's Landing forever. Go anywhere, but get the fuck out of here, never return. You'll have twenty-four hours, and if I find out you went back to the Boltons or all this shit about Ally was all a lie… I'll gut you like a fish and hang you from a bridge, you get me?"

"Yeah, yeah," Kyle nodded, eagerly.

"You know what? I'll have someone drive you back to where ever Ally is. They won't leave until they see you leaving with Ally. Otherwise, you'll be shot. Or if this shit about a red warehouse is a lie… you'll be tracked down and shot."

"Okay," Kyle replied quickly.

His rising excitement and eagerness felt like a good sign he's telling the truth.

He better be.

* * *

 _ **I'd love some reviews.**_


	18. Legacy

Chapter 18: Legacy

* * *

It wasn't the door flying open out of nowhere that startled her, but the footfalls as he climbed the steps. A familiar feeling, knowing he's coming for her. The day he discovered alcohol was a day she wouldn't soon forget. The bottle of scotch came down as quick as it went up. He had a taste for it he didn't realize.

He liked it.

When he got drunk, all of his already intolerable attitudes got worse. He got louder, angrier, more belligerent. With nowhere to put all of this, but the place he normally went. The _person_ he normally took it all out on.

His sister.

She shot up in her bed, fully awake, retreating as far as she could. Moonlight pouring in from the window behind her, illuminating his face as he ambled over, bottle in hand. Leaving the door open, allowing the ambient light from the rest of the house mix with the light from the moon. He brought the glass to his lips, downing a portion of the contents, only leaving a few more sips. His feet scuffled forward, not leaving the floor. Free hand coming to rest against the brass posts at the end of her bed for support.

His mouth opened but no words came out, silver hair disheveled, hanging over his face. He didn't wear a shirt, only black slacks, a gold chain around his neck. He glared at her with one eye opened like it helped him see her better.

Her heart pounded, eyes widened, she considered taking off past him. Knowing he'd be slower being as though he's heavy inebriated. But he's much stronger, and if he caught her it'd be much worse. Also being as it's the middle of the night, it's utterly dark in her room.

"Dany…" He huffed out, the scent of his breath reaching her.

"Viserys, why are you here? What are you doing?"

"I… ugh…" He coughed, then wet his throat with more from the bottle.

"You shouldn't be here."

"I don't care."

He slid off to fall onto the foot of the bed, laying down, some of the scotch spilling.

"Viserys," Dany tried. "I'm really tired and I-"

"Shut up, Dany," her brother retorted. He sat up, waving a finger at her, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Dany frowned, "What are you talking about?"

"You're… fucking undermining me. And what was that shit with that bastard? Huh?" He slurred, taking a sip.

It's been quite a while since Daenerys has last seen Jon. But Viserys has just now learned about it, she managed to keep it a secret for longer than she knew possible. This was only a matter of time. Her brother makes an effort to know everything about his sister, where's she's going, whose she seeing, what she's doing. Everything.

The undermining part is deserved. Recently, Dany has been trying to gain the respect of their men. So she can have some pull. They already know it was here that had the idea for buying the airline business. It was just Viserys who took the credit.

"I'm not doing anything, brother."

"That's a lie!" he exclaimed, leaning closer to her, spit dripping from his lips. "That's a fucking lie. Don't lie to me."

"I'm not."

"You are!"

"What would I have to gain by undermining you, Viserys?" Dany stood her ground, even though she is lying a bit. "I'm a woman. They won't listen to me anyway."

He scoffed, "You are right about that. But… you are still out of line." Slowly, the bottom of the bottle tipped upwards, the rest of the liquid flowing down his throat. Then he tossed it aside, hitting the wall, smashing into a million pieces. Dany recoiled at the sound, then gasped as Viserys came nearer to her. "Sometimes… I think you _want_ to wake the dragon." He whispered, licking his lips. He chased her until she hit the bed frame, trapping her there, arms on either side of her. He crawled over, weighing down on her.

"Viserys… get off me."

Her brother made these types of moves against her before. When they were little he even went as far as to kiss her. She didn't have any idea what was going on. As she got older he'd keep trying. By this time she had a clue, so she'd fight him off.

That was before he started drinking.

Whenever he drinks, he wants somewhere to bury his cock. Sometimes there are other girls around and Dany doesn't have to worry about it.

Aside from maids and servants, there are no other girls around.

He's more aggressive when he's drunk, also stronger, and more insistent.

Viserys refused her plea, coming even closer to her. Having just survived her assault just a few weeks ago, she was beginning to finally recover. This is not helping.

She pushed against him, "Viserys, get the fuck off me."

"Don't tell me what to do, slut," he growled. Then he tried to kiss her. Which absolutely repulsed her. Her immediate reaction is to bite down hard on his lip, holding on until she tasted blood. He pulls back, but she bites down harder. His eyes go wide in anger, in retaliation, his hand slapped across her cheek.

Dany cried out, then tried to crawl away. But her brother grabbed hold of her before she could. He held her down on her back, his weight falling over her. Crowding her made breathing became difficult. Despite not weighing all that much more than her, his body felt crushing against hers. She whimpered as his tongue ran up and down her neck, hot alcoholic breath burning her skin.

"Help! Someone help!"

"Shut up, bitch," He hissed, covering her mouth with his hand. Then groaned as his pants tightened, excited by the contact. "I'm gonna put you in your place, Dany."

In defense, Dany bit down hard on one of Viserys' fingers. Causing her brother to rear back, yelping in pain. His immediate reaction was to raise a clenched fist, planning on striking her. He gritted his teeth, spit flying, "You… bitch."

Before he could bring his fist down, an arm wrapped around him, and before Dany could blink, Viserys was thrown off of her. In the darkness, all she saw was his feet flying over his head.

Her rescuer came to her side, she knew who it was before he even spoke.

"Mr. Selmy," she said. Barristan Selmy, her constant protector, he'd been with her for many, many years. He handles several of their business dealings, mainly security. He took a knee, looking her over. She instantly clung to him, taking in his scent, feeling the scruffiness of his white beard.

Before he could comfort her, they felt the presence of Viserys rising from the floor. Her guardian quickly moved to stand before the bed, getting the way of the angry dragon.

"Get out of my way, Barristan."

"I won't allow you to hurt her, Viserys."

"I'm not going to hurt her. I'm just gonna remind her who I am," Viserys growled, fists clenched.

"I can't allow that either."

"I don't care! Get out of the way!" Viserys bellowed, face reddening. He pounded his fist against his chest, "I am the dragon!"

Barristan frowned, stepping forward, just his towering form shrunk Viserys down a few pegs.

"Get out or I throw you out," He said. "You will not _harm_ her. You will not _touch_ her."

As badly as Viserys wanted to fight against this, he knew he had no chance. Wordlessly, he ducked out of the room. Retreating back to whatever he was doing before, besides, the bottle called his name again.

He'd come back for her later.

Barristan made sure he was gone before he went back to Dany. Sitting on the side of the bed, he held onto her, "You're safe now. It's alright, Princess."

"I'm not a Princess."

" _You are to me."_

* * *

After her brother's attack, two men were posted outside her door during the night. Just as a precaution for that sort of thing happening again. It did make Dany feel calmer, a sense of security for once. Something she hasn't had in abundance throughout her life. Just when she thought she had it with Jon, it was stripped away. Ramsay violated her in ways she didn't know possible. Unfortunately, it's not something she's unfamiliar with. She can't count on two hands the number of times Viserys has tried it on her. Being physical with her at least, abusing her. Last night was just the latest. Normally, she can fight him off with relative ease.

What's different about last night is that if Barristan hadn't stepped in she's not sure what've become of her. He was stronger than usual and more persistent. He's tried to kiss her several times, groped her, touched her inappropriately. But attempting to flat out _rape_ her… that's new. The feeling of his hardening manhood against her made her nauseous. It reminded her of what happened in the goddamn alley.

She'd tried to forget. But it didn't feel possible. It's not something that a person can easily forget. She was nearly raped, and probably left for dead. If not for Jon, her savior, that would've come to pass.

Daenerys thought of him often, what he's doing, where he is. If she did that for too long her mind would wander to the alley again. She hated that Jon was tied to that event, he's just connected to traumatic things that have happened to her. It's a mystery whether or not she can see past that for him. Without a doubt, she wants to be with him in a sort of fashion. He made her very happy.

It's unfortunate he's synonymous with her trauma. It's not his fault. He wasn't the one who did that to her, he saved her. It's not fair that she can't think of him too long without feeling like her lunch is coming back to visit her.

By now she may have begun to mentally get over it, but Viserys reset the cycle. Now she has to worry about her brother coming to take her in the night. As a result, sleep didn't come easy. Nights spent staring at the ceiling, tossing and turning. Unable to find a comfortable spot to rest, no one spot felt right. No matter how many times she flipped the pillow over or changed positions. Eventually, she resorted to sleeping pills, not enough to put her to sleep forever, but enough to knock her out.

After much of this same process, she became isolated, lonely. Her friend Missandei would visit every once in a while, but never for too long. Dany didn't feel quite comfortable going back out into the wild just yet. With a life as trauma as hers, most would think she'd be used to it by now. But it's likely she'll never fully recover, she'll be damaged forever.

It all began some two or three years ago, the Targaryen name was a laughing stock. Great-uncle Aemon helped when he could, but often his daily activities didn't allow for much contact. Being on the great council and all, he was very busy.

That just left Viserys and her. This was around the time he became physical with her, taking his frustrations out on the only thing he could. Barristan did come to them soon after this though, which did help some.

But Viserys was hungry for power, and they didn't have much. Out of nowhere, a man named Illyrio Mopatis contacted them. Speaking of a Targaryen restoration, which of course made her brother's eyes light up. Mopatis told them of a man called Khal Drogo, and his massive Khalassar. He suggested that Viserys give her over to this man, offer marriage. In return, Drogo would offer his manpower to help Viserys.

In theory, this was a decent idea, Drogo does have thousands of men loyal to him. Will do whatever he says, an army, essentially.

Viserys was very quick to jump on this.

Of course, Daenerys was very opposed to this idea. Barristan took her side but Viserys wasn't hearing any of it. What men they did have listened to him. Dany wasn't given a choice in the matter.

They traveled to a place called Pentos, outside of these lands was where the Khal and his people resided. They met with Drogo, he rolled up on horseback, which was strange given cars exist. He didn't even wear a shirt.

But he seemed taken by Daenerys. He accepted.

Dany married Drogo in a festive event, unlike anything she'd ever seen. But she knew what it all meant. After all the festivities, Drogo stole her away. She could do little as the larger man took her maidenhead. A supposed wonderful moment was tainted. Life after that was poor, often Drogo took her whenever he wanted, even going as far to strike her if she wasn't 'up' for it. He wasn't overall abusive, but if she acted out of turn… that was a different story.

There wasn't any love to be found, zero.

Not much happiness either, Barristan stayed by her side which did help some. Her handmaidens were nice enough, she grew somewhat close to a few of them. Viserys constantly barked at Drogo about his army, he'd expected them to travel back to King's Landing. Of course, they didn't. In reality, Drogo had no intention of honoring the agreement. Viserys was dull enough to believe the Dothraki screamer.

Somewhere along the way she got pregnant. That was a spark she didn't know she needed, it excited her. She hated the man that gave it to her, but the thought of a child made her happy.

The lifestyle of the Dothraki didn't suit her, they moved around a lot. Once her belly truly started to swell, she had tried to tell them they needed to slow down. It wasn't good for the babe.

Dany realized after a while that she wasn't in good health, and that wasn't good for her child. So, she planned to escape, run away. Barristan agreed to help her.

Naturally, Dany wasn't capable of long travel, or quickly at all. But nevertheless, she tried for her child. Drogo was determined to be the only Khal, so he was chasing the other ones all over the country. Hellbent on naming himself 'The Greatest of all Khals', he'd yell. Normally, they might camp in one place for weeks on end. Instead, they might only have stayed a day or two, before moving out. The Dothraki are nomads, after all.

One night, when the Khal was off with his blood riders raiding a small city. They'd been planning it for weeks. Once her handmaidens were gone, Barristan came to her. Horses were ready for them, in the dead of night, they escaped.

Of course, they didn't make it that far. The Dothraki found them after just one day. As soon as their absence was noticed, Drogo sent his bloodriders after them. Barristan fought and killed a few of the horse lords, but they were surrounded. They would have killed him if Daenerys hadn't pleaded for his life.

The two of them were swiftly and abruptly taken back to the Khal. They rode hard and didn't stop for anything, even when Dany told them she needed to take a rest. She didn't make it three steps into camp before she collapsed, blacking out.

When she awoke, she laid in a bed, and her child was dead.

She blamed Drogo, and she was irate. Of course, after losing the babe, all the Dothraki thought she was cursed. A normal Dothraki bride wouldn't have any issues carrying a baby to term with the always moving lifestyle, but that's because that's all they've known. It was hard for Dany, almost torture. All the stress that went along with it, she couldn't take it. It wasn't conducive to birthing a healthy baby.

After she waited a few more weeks, when she was back to full strength. Working out a full-on escape plan all along, when the time came. This time, they could move quickly. During the day, she went to 'make water' and never returned. Barristan was waiting in the brush with supplies and two horses.

Dany was gone.

Her and Barristan returned to Westeros, back into King's Landing. She met with her brother, who had been there for some time. After realizing the Khal would never give him the army he desired. The brother and sister bickered for many days, before deciding to move on.

Dany was rightfully rather upset with her brother for putting her in that situation. Viserys didn't much care about his sister, or what she thought. He'd use her again or just for amusement.

The time Dany spent with the Dothraki haunted her for many years after, and Viserys acting up only made those feeling flush up again. Even as she clutched her knees to her chest, rocking herself on her bed, they wouldn't go away. Closing her eyes only made it worse, making the visions more clear, as if they were happening to her again. Crying herself to sleep until she ran out of tears.

One day, she laid her in bed, staring at the ceiling. Barristan had just told her of the fire at the school. The hospital had called, needing help, but she refused. Not because she didn't want to, but because she wasn't physically or emotionally able. She'd told them she wasn't feeling well, they bought it.

Barristan had also told her that many of the Ten Families' children went to the school. That didn't click in her brain until later. Making her battle with whether or not to call Jon. She knew he had little siblings. Not sure if she could see them though, she wanted to. Something held her back, the mind reminding her what happened to her the last time she saw him. Still, the desire to just hear his voice, just that, forced her hand. She did yearn for him, after all.

Hesitating when she held her phone, though, doubt filling her. Staring at the dial button for longer than she had intended. Set actually set it down and walked away. Not until late at night did she pick it back up. The previous attempt repeated itself, though this time, she pressed it, eventually.

Considering that Jon was probably having a horrible, busy day, it surprised her that he answered so quickly.

"Hello? Daenerys? Is that you?" His voice nearly sounding giddy.

"Hi, Jon, it's me."

"What?... Ah… Is something wrong?" His initial excitement fading away.

Dany nearly shouted, "No," Cursing under her breath at the outburst. "I… I just wanted to see how you were doing. I heard about the fire."

Jon didn't answer at first, she heard him sigh. Finally, he uttered, "Yeah… It's tough."

"Is everyone alright?"

"Not exactly," Jon's voice cracked.

"What'd you mean?"

"Arya's fine, Rickon's still in the hospital, we're still not sure when he'll be released. Sansa…" His voice trailed off.

"Jon?" Dany sat up in her bed. "What happened?"

"They… took her."

"Who?"

"Ramsay."

All the air left her lungs, finding herself holding her hand over her heart. Jon kept speaking to her, but her ears didn't hear it. Just hearing his name…

"Dany?" Jon raised his voice, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"What?"

"Dany, are you okay? You when quiet."

She sniffled, "Ah… No, not really, to be honest, I'm a little messed up."

"Oh… Dany, I'm sorry. I-"

"Don't be, it's not your fault," she replied, smiling even though he couldn't see her.

"Doesn't feel like that to me," Jon sighed. "They were there for me."

"It's not your fault," she repeated herself, trying to make him understand. "Who knows what might've become of me if you weren't there anyway."

"You never would've been in that situation if weren't for me."

"Stop blaming yourself," she chided. "It's unbecoming of you, it's not your fault, I was there of my own accord. Just stop it, so we can look ahead."

"We?"

"Yes… We," Dany found herself deciding something she hadn't internally considered. Being without Jon just seemed so unnaturally in the moment. Despite what they've been through together. Those types of things would normally tear people apart.

"I thought I'd never hear from you again," he admitted.

"Is that what you wanted?"

"Of course not."

"Then what are you talking about?"

"You really want to see me again?" Jon asked. "I can't lie. I want nothing more than to be with you. But I'd completely understand if you didn't want to."

Her reply was barely a whisper, clutching the phone tighter to her, "Why wouldn't I want to see you again?"

He laughed, the giddiness returning, "That's the best news I've heard all day."

* * *

Grumpy as always, Twyin sat by his lonesome in the dining room, table lack of food. Musing on what's to come, always trying to think ahead of those opposing him. Those damn Stark boys, they've been harder to deal with than he originally imagined. Plus, Robb Stark was supposed to be dead by now. The Block, by now, should be wrapped around his thumb by now. It should be his. When in reality it's Robb Stark's, nothing infuriated him more.

He'd attempted to use the Boltons to root them out. But that had failed so far, all they've done is kidnapped a girl and burned a school down. A school that his grandchildren attended, of course. Luckily, they had gotten out before the fire really started to burn. But the chance of his legacy dissipating was visible. They could've burned up, or leaping from a window, just like the rest.

Tommen and Myrcella had been terrified, Joffrey tried to look brave, it didn't work. Cersei was in the rafters, screaming about it. She shut up when Tywin told her the Boltons were behind the fire.

Tywin hadn't sanctioned the attack, directly. He did tell Roose to do whatever needed to kill the Stark boys. Why that meant burning down the siblings' school, he didn't know. Nevertheless, it made him very angry. That's not how you do things, children are not a part of the equation.

For their actions, Roose and Ramsay were reporting to him.

At the head of the table, Tywin didn't have to wait very long. Normally, if he summoned someone, they came quickly.

Wordlessly, they were ushered into the room. Silent except for the crackling of the fireplace, Tywin emptily glared at them. The surface portraying no opinion, underneath the lion roared in its cage.

"Sit," he commanded in a low tone, no room for discussion.

The Boltons scurried over as quick as their feet would carry them. Ramsay sat to his right, and Roose to his left. Tywin leaned back, crossing his arms, staring at them. Ramsay wiped the sweat off his forehead, either because of the increasing heat in the room or just being flat nervous. Roose grimaced though holding Tywin's gaze.

"I would like an explanation." Tywin finally breathed out. "And I'd like one now. Because I can't think of any reason to torch a school."

"The Starks—" Roose tried but was cut off by Tywin's palm smacking the tabletop.

"Weren't there," Tywin finished for him. "The girls and the young boy was…" Then he gritted his teeth, "Also, my grandchildren. My _legacy_ was in that building."

"But—"

Tywin interrupted again, "You could've destroyed my legacy. If you had... _no one would find your bodies."_

"We have the girl," Roose said, trying to explain before Tywin kept on.

"You think I care about Sansa Stark?"

"She's useful," Ramsay spoke up.

"What? On her back?" Tywin scoffed, sitting up, making them retreat. "The girl is an addict, I have no use for addicts."

"They'll come for her," Ramsay added with a smirk.

"I'm sure they will," Tywin replied. "But I don't care."

"What?"

"Do what you will with her," Tywin said, standing up. "As I said, I don't care." Then he moved over to stand with his back to the fireplace. "But what you did… _that_ I care about." Three men quietly entered the room then, Meryn Trant among them. They stood behind Ramsay, but far enough back that the fire barely lit them, shrouded in darkness.

Roose's head snapped back and forth between the men and Twyin, rising to his feet, saying, "What is this?"

"I told you, you threatened my _legacy_ ," Tywin answered, voice filling the room. The fire backlit him, illuminating his form, appearing ablaze. " _Legacy_ is all there is. All that matters, what comes after us. You would have destroyed mine."

"We didn't!" Ramsay scowled.

"You… boy, you lit a fire in place my grandchildren go to learn, where they got to learn, where it's supposed to be safe."

Meryn came over and lifted Ramsay out of his chair by the neck, throwing him down like he weighed nothing. The Lannister men began to stomp and punch him.

"Hey!" Roose called out. "Tywin, what the _fuck?"_

The Head Lion approached Roose, the few inches he had over him, felt like feet. Tywin's head hung over, a stony glare about his face. "Your boy… he's gonna pay for what he did."

"Pay?" Roose growled, threw his hands in the air. "He did it for us! For you!"

Tywin cocked his head to the side, further crowding Roose, "He almost killed my grandchildren... for me?"

"It was to get to the Starks!"

The sound of Ramsay crying out and groaning filled the room. The dull thud of boots colliding with bone. Tywin held his hand up to stop them, Meryn pulled Ramsay to his feet. The boy was gasping for air, wincing, face painted in crimson, with a swollen right eye. Then he was put back in his chair, Meryn kept his hand on him.

Tywin spoke next, "Roose, this what happens when you step out of line. You and your boy may have had good intentions but nevertheless you well and truly _fucked_ up. _You fucked with my legacy._ That I cannot stand for. That beating your kid got was mercy. I should kill you."

Roose's voice trembled, "Will you?"

"No," Tywin scowled. "I won't. Because the _Starks_ will do worse."

"What?"

"I'm giving you to the wolves."

Roose shook his head, "I don't understand."

"It's called a professional courtesy," Tywin half-smiled, backing up. "What you did was out of line. You aren't mine to kill. You took their sister, and the youngest's life is hanging in the balance. I don't care about any of that, but I want you gone. I could just shoot you now, though that's not what you deserve."

Roose inclined his chin, frowning, "You… What?"

"I care about my family. You threatened them. You will die," Tywin narrowed his gaze. "I'll do whatever I need to get what I want and protect my _legacy._ I killed Ned Stark, and I'd do it again. But he was a man who deserved it. Though there's still rules, the Accords, you broke them, spat on them. Women and children, they are out of bounds."

Roose scoffed, "Fucking hypocrite, killing Ned Stark broke the Accords."

"I told you, Ned Stark got what he deserved. I did what was necessary. Burning the school wasn't necessary, that is the difference," Tywin replied, pointing his finger in the air.

"So, What? Your gonna let us go?"

Tywin got in Roose's face again, "If what happened to your man, Locke, is any clue. You better not let them catch you."

"What happened to Locke?" Roose pulled a face.

"Oh? You didn't hear?" Tywin chuckled. "They left him on the side of the street, all bloody… and burned. Really I hope for a fight, kill each other, I'm staying out of it, of course. So don't expect any back up from me. As far as I'm concerned, we're not affiliated any longer. Those boys are looking for you, and they are _motivated_. I don't expect you'll survive. But… if somehow you do, and the Starks are gone. Don't worry, I'll be suddenly motivated myself to finish the job. Now get out of my sight."

Meryn pulled Ramsay back up. One of the other men came over to grab Roose by the arm, dragging him away, the Bolton just glared at Tywin.

Who turned away, facing back to the fire again, as the Boltons were forced out. He stood there for some time. Until he felt the presence of someone behind him. He turned to see Meryn Trant.

"They are gone," Trant said, nodding.

"Good. What of Lorch?"

"We found him."

"Excellent," Tywin smirked. "Where is he?"

"In the trunk of my car," Meryn smirked, evilly.

"Take him to the basement, I'll be along momentarily," Tywin huffed. "Beat him, break him, cut him, after I'm finished we'll dump him in the usual spot."

"What about the guy already down there?" Meryn frowned, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

"What guy?" Tywin sighed, putting his hands on his hips.

"The Stark guy, olive skin, I think," Meryn shrugged.

"Ah… What is that man still doing down there? I told Jaime to get rid of him," Tywin scowled, taking a deep breath.

"What you want me to do with him?"

"Dump him with Lorch."

* * *

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	19. There's Nothing You Could've Done

**Chapter 18: There's Nothing You Could've Done**

* * *

The very next second, Jon made a few calls. First to Robb, to let him know what had happened. The older brother was rightfully surprised and started to freak out until Jon reassured him he was handling it.

They quickly decided to send some men to try to find the warehouse. Once they found it they'd all converge. That was the plan at least. The problem was things just seemed to turn tits up at the first possible juncture.

After he got off the phone, Grenn came bounding down the stairs. Jon held up his hands to stop him halfway down, "Grenn, take three other guys and go to the docks. Search the whole fucking place and see if there even is a red warehouse there. If there is, call me right away."

The red-haired man frowned, but nodded, "Alright, I got it," Was Grenn's only response, then he climbed back up the steps at a high speed.

Jon watched him go, then took a glance at Locke. The black and darkened skin, even looking like it may flake off soon. Jon wouldn't miss the man, that was for sure. His mind quickly wandered to what he had become. What he was willing to do. As it happened his mind just went blank, there was only red. He just hoped it wouldn't all be for nothing.

Eventually, he began slowly moving up the stairs. Realizing his recent lack of sleep was starting to catch up to him, nearly falling up the steps. The last time he slept was the night before Ramsay torched the school.

That was almost two days ago.

With all the adrenaline vacated in his system, wrapping his palm around the handle of the door hurt rather a lot. "Damn it," he cursed. Though he forced himself through it, moving out into the main area of the floor level of the house. Then he found his way to the cart with the alcohol on it. Clean tumbler in hand, he dumped some whiskey in it. The need for painkillers and a drink has happened before so in the cabinet of the cart, he found the bottle. Jon knocked back four pills and the glass of whiskey.

He wished his hands would've stopped hurting immediately. Though naturally, a few minutes later, the couch looked really comfortable to him.

So that's where he went. It didn't take long for him to pass out. Maybe he might've wanted a dreamless sleep. Of course, he wouldn't get such a wish.

A city on fire, his feet carried him through the streets as chaos exploded all around him. Unable to move as building burned around him, the shrill shrieks of women and children assaulted his eardrums. He wanted to cover his ears but his arms wouldn't move.

Fights broke out on the sidewalk nearby, hundreds of people gathered all around in a brawl. He witnessed a man's neck get snapped right before the skull got crushed by a lead pipe. Two women fought, pulling hair and scratching at the face. One of them got their eyes gouged out.

Everyone killed each other around him but paid him no mind. For they didn't care about some dumb bastard who thought himself a hero.

Ahead, his eyes widened as a visage of his father, Ned Stark appeared. Arms stretched out to him, Jon wanted to embrace him but his body stopped dead. The murders around seemed to notice Ned suddenly. All ran at him, Jon watched in horror as a pack of bloodthirsty savages ravaged his father with blades. Shanks and switchblades ran in and out of Ned's torso. But the attack didn't seem to phase him. Keeping his arms outstretched he locked eyes with Jon and said:

" _There's nothing you could've done_."

It was the vibrating of his phone that woke Jon. Waking with a start, he slapped his chest pocket where the phone resided. The reverberation gave quite the sensation, if he had to bet what a heart attack felt like, he'd say it resembled that. Hyperventilating a bit, he retrieved his phone. His eyes weren't working right yet, so he squinted at the caller ID. Thankfully, he only has only one contact on his phone that starts with the letter 'G'.

"Hello?" Jon answered it. "Grenn?"

"Yeah, Jon, it's me."

"Did you find anything?"

"Well, there's a red warehouse down here. We can see it from the gates, but there's a problem."

"What?"

"The fucking Greyjoys won't let us in."

Jon took the phone away from his mouth so he could yell. "Fuck! Goddamn it."

Grenn was confused, "Jon? You there?"

"Yeah," Jon replied, bringing it back to his mouth. "Grenn, tell me what's happening."

"They've got one of those toll booth looking things over here, with tall ass fences and barbed wire. There's guarding the fuck out of whatever is inside. Three Greyjoy fuckers are standing right in front of me and won't let us in," Grenn explained, the frustration clear in his voice.

"That's fucking strange," Jon frowned. It was, truly. The Greyjoys control a lot of what comes in and out of the city by boat. Normally, they're pretty loose on security. Yet the bay is rather large, and this is only one section of it. Though Greyjoys have eyes all over the docks. "But there's a red warehouse in there?"

"Yeah, I can fucking see it through the fence over there."

"Is this the only red warehouse at the docks?"

"As far as we know," Grenn replied. "But this is the weird part, this is the only part of the docks they are specifically guarding. They got dudes elsewhere but this part is fucking fenced in, with goddamn armed guards. If there's a red warehouse, that's Sansa's supposed to be in, this is gotta be the one."

"Alright, alright," Jon exhaled, pinching his brow. "Just lemme think for a second."

"I mean, I can get by these three dudes, easy, but I dunno how many more they got beyond the gate."

"Just sit there, don't move," Jon told him. "Lemme make some fucking calls. If they don't let us in we are _coming_ in. You hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you."

"Be ready."

* * *

"Euron? What's this I fucking hear about you not letting my boys in the docks?" Robb nearly yelled over the mouthpiece. He heard from Jon, then immediately called Euron. He had stepped onto the balcony of the hotel room for some privacy.

"I'm sorry, my King," Euron chided in a very sarcastic tone. "Could you fill me in on what exactly you're talking about?" Robb heard the man seemingly chewing on what sounded like an apple or grape.

"I'm not in the fucking mood, Euron," Robb gritted his teeth. "You know exactly I'm talking about."

"Ah!" Euron snapped his fingers. "Yes, I remember now. I heard your boys wanted into one of my secure compounds. Yeah… no, that's not happening."

"What?" Robb scoffed, aghast.

"Are you surprised?" Euron laughed. "Would you let some of my smelly seamen on your property? No. Why should I let some wolves tear up my shit?"

"Because you got my sister in there, you fuck!" Robb exclaimed.

"I don't know anything about that," Euron's response was quick.

"You're fucking lying," Robb said. "There's a red warehouse she's being kept in."

Euron half-laughed, "Are you accusing me of taking your dear sweet sister?"

"No, I'm now accusing you of harboring her for the fucking Boltons, which just as bad," Robb snarled, grip tightening around the phone. "So, if I find out you truly knew about this, and helped these fuckers, oh, there is gonna be _hell_ to pay."

"Or not because I truly don't know a damn thing about what you're talking about," Euron sneered. "Now, I've got a couple of bitches right here that need my attention if you catch my drift. I'll be seeing you, my King."

"Yeah, really fucking soon," Robb replied, angrily.

"Alright, and do me a favor and get your damn dogs off my property, okay?"

After pushing down the desire to throw the phone against a wall as hard as he could, Robb called Jon. Staying on the balcony, he listened to the dial tone. His brother picked up on the third ring, "Robb? What'd you find out?"

"Euron is hiding something, he acted like he had no idea what I was talking about," Robb answered, trying to calm down by staring at the moon. The white light-colored his face, the cool white shades starkly different from boiling anger in his belly.

"That fucker… Robb, she's gotta be there."

"I've gathered that."

"So we gotta go get her."

"And do what? Start a war with the Greyjoys?"

"We're already fighting the Boltons and the Lannisters, what's one more family?"

"Do we even have the manpower to bust in there?" Robb asked.

"Maybe."

"I don't wanna bet on a maybe."

"I could talk to Grenn," Jon sighed. "I reckon we could get together at least 25 guys."

"That's it?"

"Robb, we employ a lot more than that but we can't bring every man we got here to do this. There's guys with you, at the house, carrying out other business," Said Jon in response.

"Well is 25 enough?"

"I don't know. We don't know how many more guys Euron's got on the other side of the fucking gate."

"We could run right into a trap."

"Exactly."

"Well what the fuck are we gonna do, Jon?" Robb asked, clearly frustrated. "We can't just let them keep Sansa in there!"

"You think I don't fucking know that?" Jon nearly exclaimed. "Can you just give a second to think? Fuck!" Thankfully, Robb did shut up for a few moments. Allowing Jon to gather his thoughts.

Jon was quiet for so long Robb finally had to say something, "Jon, you still there?"

The younger brother replied quickly, "Yeah, I got it."

"What?"

"I'm gonna get as many guys as I can," Jon said. "And I'm taking them to that fucking warehouse. If they won't let us in we're bust our fucking way in. We gotta get Sansa out of there."

"Alright," Robb said. "Do it."

* * *

Three trucks joined one already there. Jon stepped out of the blacked-out SUV. All the men he'd brought with did the same. Pulling right up to the toll box-like station the Greyjoy's had set up. He felt pairs of eyes all over him.

Grenn walked up to Jon, they shook hands. "I'd say I'm glad to you see ya, but the circumstances aren't great."

"Yeah, we'll see what we can do about that," Jon replied, grimacing. He looked over the fence. He saw the red warehouse sticking out like a sore thumb even the darkness of night.

They both turned to face the toll booth, a Greyjoy man stepped out, hand wrapped tightly around his sawed-off shotgun. Though he smiled and waved. Jon leaned over to Grenn, "I brought a lot of guys and a lot of guns."

"How many?"

"On short notice, I was able to get together twenty-seven our people. Guns of all sorts, shotguns, machine guns, pistols, and even a fucking chainsaw if we need it."

"That should be enough," Grenn said, crossing his arms. "If Sansa is here, they probably won't have that many guys stationed here. That way there's not too much attention focused here. Or, there could fifty Greyjoys behind this fucking gate. Though nobodies came in or out since we've been here."

"Good," Jon nodded, turning around he noticed everyone behind him arming up. "So no real activity around here?"

"Well," Grenn frowned a bit, stroking his ginger beard. Then he turned around and pointed to a container crane hanging over the yard. "They've sure been using that thing a lot. Moving those big metal containers all over the place. But that's it."

"Hmm… Probably nothing."

"You wanna give 'em one last chance?"

"I'm surprised they haven't already started shooting at us."

"They probably just a bunch of pussies," Grenn said, flipping his bat up to rest on his shoulder.

Jon didn't respond. His feet carried him forward toward the booth. Only did he stop when the Greyjoy turned the barrel of the blunderbuss in his direction. Though the Stark was unafraid, he did halt progress. Getting shot unnecessarily didn't seem like an excellent idea. He called out to the man, "You fucks wouldn't let my associates inside. Now I'm here. Which is rather unfortunate for you. But you've still got a chance. Let me in now, and we're all square. Refuse us again, well… It gets ugly."

The grizzled Greyjoy spat before Jon's feet, "Make yourself sparse, Stark. Before it does get ugly… for you."

"Well," Jon shrugged, "That is unfortunate." In a flash, he had a pistol out. The next moment he left a gaping hole in the goon's face. Red mist filling the air. The Stark men surged past Jon as the man fell dead. Walking up to Jon, Grenn handed him a submachine gun. He shoved the pistol in between his belt.

In the yard, right before the toll booth, lie numerous shipping containers, arranged in a maze sort of way. There was plenty of space to walk between them. They covered the ground, unable to run around them. Stretching all the way across until the edge leading into Blackwater Bay. A container crane loomed over them, hanging over the warehouse. High up in the air, Greyjoys began climbed up the ladder on the legs. It didn't take long for their to be ten or so with high ground, likely carrying high powered rifles.

A slimy voice came over a loudspeaker planted by the warehouse, with accompanying speakers all around the yard so the volume would carry. All knew the voice, "Ah… Wolves are such dumb cunts."

Jon pulled a face, gritting his teeth so hard it hurt, "Euron."

"Turns out you fucks are trespassing. I'm within my rights to fucking kill you. So be good, lay down and fucking die like the fucking dogs you are."

One of Jon's men yelled, "This is fucked! We should go."

Jon snarled loudly, "Can't. My sister is in here. We can't leave. If you desert me now you better skip town 'cause I'll catch and kill you myself."

"Let's get to that fucking warehouse!" Grenn bellowed, beating on his chest.

Taking that as a cue, the Greyjoys atop the crane began firing. Several heads exploded near Jon, crimson filling the air. The only respite seemed to be the containers ahead. "Fucking move or die!"

Even from behind a metal container, the bullets clanged off the top and sides. Jon covered his head in a futile attempt to protect himself. The shooting didn't even seem to end. Felt like they'd attained unlimited fucking ammo. Grenn got close so his voice could be heard, "Jon! What the fuck do we do?"

 _There's nothing you could've done._

"We're fucking pinned down!" someone yelled. There wasn't enough room for everyone to hide behind the same container. Others found another or lost their head.

"Fuck!" Jon could only say. His hair tie had been loosed and lost long ago. Oh, how he wished he still had it for just some feeling of lingering control. "Fuck! Alright… We move up. Go in between the containers if you have to. We use those as cover. We need to get under the crane so they can't shoot at us. Gotta get to that damn warehouse. Gotta find Sansa."

Thus began a small battle of attrition, maybe Stark men died. Falling to the ground with a thud, many trying to stop the bleeding, others dead before they hit the earth. They tried shooting back at the Greyjoys up top. But it was just too far in the air, sure a few stray bullets hit. Mostly ineffective to say the least.

The numerous containers were the only thing that saved them. Jon wondered why they were here in the first place if this was an ambush in the first place. When a bullet got close to ending his short life. He ducked to the ground, cowering near the end of a green container. Quickly he realized the thing was open. Unable to stop himself for peering inside despite the carnage around him. Inside was a bunch of wooden boxes stacked up. Jon fully stepped inside to inspect them. Using the butt of his SMG, he cracked open a long rectangular one.

"Jon!" Grenn's voice called out to him. "What the fuck are you doing in there? We're dying out here." Moments later he entered the container himself. "Jon, what the fuck?"

"Shut up and come here." Jon snapped. Grenn came over to see what was in the box. A sniper rifle. "Euron must have just got in a shipment. Think you can put this to use?"

"Fuck yeah I can," Grenn laughed a bit, picking the rifle up. He set it against his shoulder, peering through the scope. Jon smashed open another crate, finding himself a proper assault rifle. "We need to get the rest of the boys in here. There's no telling what other arms we can get."

"Yeah," Jon replied, pulling the side back. The rifle had a mid-range sight on it, likely useful for hitting the snipers on the crane. He slung the submachine gun around his back. In the box, he found a few extra magazines. Never before had he been more thankful for the inside pockets of suit jacket. Grenn stepped out and waved in as many nearby men as he could to get some supplies.

As five or more Starks came running into the container, Jon stepped out. They cowered in fear, furthering screaming even from the protection of the inside. Yelling even louder when the bullets dinged off the top.

Jon slid down the long side of the green container until he reached the end of it. Quickly, he peered up to the crane. It didn't appear as if they noticed him. He hefted the assault rifle up and took aim. One of them right between his crosshairs, he readied to fire. Except in the very next moment, the Greyjoy pointed somewhere nearby to Jon and yelled something incoherent. The man took off with several of his friends close behind.

The loudest noise to ever grace Jon's eardrums came right next to him. A small explosion it sounded like. A boom so loud Jon thought he'd just been blown to bits. Except he didn't, but he instinctively fell to the ground, covering his head. Half a second later, there was another explosion but farther away. This one was twice as loud as the first. The heat stretched down and brushed against Jon's back.

When all seemed safe, Jon looked up to see the crane on fire. The section from where the Greyjoys shot at them was devastated. The crane itself appeared unstable afterwards, the walkway that supported the men hung on by blackened metal. Many of the Greyjoys didn't make it off, seeing as the charred bodies now laying on the ground below the crane.

"Seven hells," Jon gasped. "The fuck was that?"

"Me, of course," a voice from behind him said. Snapping his head around, Jon saw Grenn standing there with a bazooka resting on his shoulder. He shrugged, "I simply couldn't resist. How cool was that?"

"Could've warned me first," Jon replied, getting to his feet. Before anyone else could speak, the weakened walkway gave out. Falling from high in the air to ground, probably crushing the already blown up bodies of the dead Greyjoys. The ground below everyone's feet shook like an earthquake. "This is the craziest night of my goddamn life."

Grenn set the rocket launcher aside, saying, "Well, it's not over yet." He put his hand on his bat, which had been shoved through the space between his belt and his pants.

Jon held his hand out to stop him, then passed the assault rifle over. "Nah, you're gonna need to do some more shooting first."

"Right," Grenn nodded, taking the gun.

Getting hand back on his own submachine gun, Jon said, "Come on, let's get this fucking thing done."

"'Course," Grenn smirked. He took a couple of steps backward and yelled, "Hey! Come the fuck on you dolts!" Seconds later what Starks were left joined them, about fifteen of them.

The pack rolled out towards their goal, that fucking red warehouse. They picked up the pace, breaking out into a jog. Though they were forced to halt when the path they walked became blocked another container lying laterally. They were unable to proceed straight to the warehouse. Only to the left or the right, unclear if either actually led to where they wanted to go.

"Just can't be easy, huh?" Grenn shook his head.

Jon nodded head to the left, "Imma go this way, some of you come with me. Grenn, you take the rest the other way. If you find the way out yell as loud as you can."

"Alright, come on fuckers," Grenn sighed, walking off to the right.

Saying nothing, Jon just took off. He knew they'd follow.

Progress was slow given they had no idea if they were even going in the right direction. There were other forks in the path where Jon was forced to make a decision on which way to go. Any choice he made felt wrong. They even ran back into Grenn and his group but both teams separated soon after in different directions. The difficulty of setting all this only made this all feel premeditated. Perhaps they didn't have much time though, that's why Euron was forced to use precious cargo to arrange the maze. That's probably why the container crane was so close by. This must have happened recently.

 _There's nothing you've could've done._

Although, given the likely hasty placement of the containers. The path out of the maze wasn't difficult to figure out. Eventually, the containers were aligned in a simple 'S' pattern. Left then right, left then right, repeat. Jon nearly started to run when he saw an opening leading to free air.

With the red warehouse in sight, he couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop. He passed through the opening as fast as could. Feeling as if it might close if he didn't go through quickly. Once through the breach, he half expected to be shot down. He breathed in deep once he realized he might still live, for now at least. The rest of his men caught up as Jon pressed on.

Grenn and a few other Starks caught up to him as they neared the warehouse.

"Goddamn it," Grenn cursed. "What's with that fucking maze?"

"They must have wanted to slow us down."

"Well, they sure accomplished that. No one even came back to fight us though."

Jon smirked, "Maybe they're all dead."

"Doubt it," Grenn shook his head. Then raised his finger toward the warehouse, "They likely all in there. The rest of 'em."

"Think they got guns pointed at the doors?"

"I'd bet."

The front of the building had a massive bay door, assumably for backing in trucks and such.

Though there were a pair of smaller doors down low. Those doors flew open in front of them. Six Greyjoys ran out carrying pistols and shotguns. With nothing for either side to hide behind, a firefight broke out immediately. The Greyjoy's started shooting first, letting out numerous shots. Jon just held his machine gun at the hip, holding the trigger down hard. Bodies all around started to fall.

Having an automatic gun helped. Jon killed four of the Greyjoys quickly. The other two died as well. But in the fray, all of the Starks around him got shot down. Even Grenn took a bullet in the arm.

"Seven hells," Jon huffed. When he tried to step forward his leg wouldn't take the pressure. His face hit the pavement before he knew what was up. Once he rolled over he noticed a bullet passed through the meat of his left calf. "Fuck. Motherfucker."

 _There's nothing you could've done._

"Jon, you alright?" Grenn came over blood pouring down his left arm.

"I'll be fine," Jon replied, scowling. Allowing Grenn to help him to his feet. That moment, the remaining ten Stark men gathered around. "We gotta get the fuck in that goddamn warehouse."

"Hold up, brother," Grenn began, he knelt down to take a look at Jon's leg wound. "Gotta do something about this first."

"What are you gonna do?"

Grenn looked around at the Starks surrounding, at random he pointed at one of them. "Hey you, gimme your belt."

The young man was confused. "My belt?"

"Did I stutter? Gimme the goddamn thing." As quick as he could, the boy obeyed and handed the piece of leather over. Gingerly, Grenn wrapped the belt around Jon's wound. "Can't 'ave you bleeding all over the fuckin' place. This is gonna hurt."

Jon winced as Grenn tightened it up as far as it could go. "Goddamn, it gotta be that tight?"

"Fuck yeah, gotta have some pressure on it."

"Thanks, I guess."

"What are all you's standing around for? You heard him!" Grenn yelled, turning around to the men. "Get the fuck in there!" As commanded, the men ran forward bursting into the warehouse.

"She better fucking be here." Jon gritted his teeth as he reloaded his gun. Mere moments later shots began to ring out from inside the warehouse.

"It just can't be fucking easy, can it?" Grenn scowled, shaking his head.

"Come on, let's get it done."

Not allowing his leg to slow him down, Jon sprinted as fast as his body would allow. It hurt plenty, though he wouldn't let mere pain stop him.

Jon cast aside the submachine gun, having run out of ammo. Leaving himself with just a pistol. Though undeterred, he surged forward.

* * *

 **HEY. If you're alive, leave a review.**


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